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THE 

GENIAL SHOWMAN^ 

bi:ing ' ,.. : ;»£> 

REMINISCENCES OF THE LIFE 



ARTEMUS WARD 

AND PICTURES OF A SHOWMAN'S CAREER IN THE WESTERN 
WORLD. 

By EDWARD PfHINGSTON. 




Chinese Stage SoUliers. — p. 310. 



NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 
Complete in One Volume. 



LONDON : JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY. 



14 11 Rights reset ved. J 



i^T 



c 



,87 



By Transfer 

MAR 30 1917 



I 



A 






OVERTURE. 

OOMEWHERE in the Western States of the 
American Union a newspaper editor was chal- 
lenged to define explicitly the politics of his journal. 
He replied,—' ' Up and down the Democratic plank 
our principles are straight as a ramrod, but we've got 
some ideas which creep out underneath at the sides. 
They creep and creep till they get their grip of the 
whole creation.'" 

The divergent tendencies of that Western editor 
were, I am afraid, like to those which have influenced 
me in writing this book. My intention was to write 
the story of one who was the most genial of showmen. 
Yielding to the impulse of the moment, I have written 
of many other people and of many other things. 

" Write all that you happen to know of the life of 
Artemus Ward/' advised a friend. 

I promised to do so. 

" Relate all your adventures among the showmen 
of America/' said another friend. "America has 
never been pictured from a showman's point of view 



vi OVERTURE. 

in any book of Trans-Atlantic travel. You have seen 
the greater part of the North American continent 
and must surely have some quaint stories to tell and 
some odd incidents to describe/" 

I replied— « Yes." 

" Use up those note-books of yours/' suggested 
poor Artemus Ward on one of the last days of his 
life, when dying at Southampton ; u we fell in with 
many good things during our wanderings. That note- 
book was a nuisance on the road, but you should turn 
it to account now." 

My answer was — " I will, by-and-by." 

Hence the volumes now presented to the public. 
They are not a biography, nor do they form a book of 
travel, nor a collection of anecdotes, nor a treatise on 
the art of being a showman. They are simply an 
endeavour to narrate succinctly and amusingly the 
principal incidents of the public career of Artemus 
Ward, and the adventures which befel us together ; to 
describe the people we met and the scenes we looked 
upon ; to rescue from forgetfulness a few passing jokes, 
and to tell over again some of the odd stories heard 
by the way. 

Should any critic across the Atlantic object that the 
stories are not all new ones and that some of them have 
been told before, my reply is, that they were told to 
me. If previously related to Brother Jonathan, the 



OVERTURE. vii 

Puritan Fathers, or Christopher Columbus, I cannot 
help it, and am far too generously disposed to grudge 
any one of those gentlemen the pleasure of having 
listened to a good thing before me. 

One word about my non-adherence to the rules of 
literary composition. I am quite well aware that I have 
written some chapters in the past tense and others in 
the present. Wherever I have done so I have written 
advisedly and with intention. I have changed the key 
to suit the character of the music. My good intent 
must be the apology for my transgression. 

Note-books and itineraries carefully kept have fur- 
nished me with materials. Wherever I have quoted 
a saying or a speech, I have done so from memoranda 
made shortly after its utterance. Whether from out 
of my garden of sweets I have culled the prettiest 
flowers I am not quite certain. But the bouquet- 
paper — thanks to the publisher — may help to sell the 
nosegay. 

ii the belief that these pages will furnish some new 
matter to the reading public, and that the scenes and 
places described in them are not already too familiar, 
I venture, as a showman, to open my literary show. 

E. P. H. 

London, 1870. 




CONTENTS. 



CHAP. 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 
VIII. 

IX. 



XI. 

XII. 
XIII. 
XIV, 
XV, 
XVI, 



PAGH 

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE SHOWMAN I 

ENJOYING "THE HONEYMOON," AND VISITING " THE 

infernal regions" 12 

the ohio river a showman afloat .... 28 

louisville among panoramas and minstrels . 45 

maine the home of the humorist . . . . 62' 

cleveland how mr. charles browne became 

"artemus ward" 79 

new york the verdict in the cellar ... 96 

the united states — lectures and the lectur- 
ING SYSTEM Ill 

NEW YORK — "BABES IN THE WOOD " AT CLINTON 

HALL 133 

WASHINGTON AND PHILADELPHIA AN EMBALMER's 

WORKSHOP SIXTY MINUTES OF AFRICA IN THE 

CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE 1 45 

ACROSS THE CONTINENT A STRANGE TELEGRAM — THE 

BABES TRANSFORMED INTO GHOSTS l6l 

THE ATLANTIC OCEAN — SHOWMEN ON THE SEA . . 17T 

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA SHOWMEN IN THE TROPICS 1 82 

PANAMA THE LAOCOON AT SANTA-FE DE BOGOTA . 1 96 

POKER AND EUCHRE ON THE PACIFIC .... 206 
COFFEE-TRAYS AND CIGAR-CASES IN MEXICO — THE 

SHOWMAN AT ACAPULCO 219 



± CONTENTS. 

CHAP. PAGE 

XVII. LANDING THE SHOW IN CALIFORNIA . . . . 233 

XVIII. WAKING THE ECHOES I^ SAN FRANCISCO . . ' . 247 

XIX. SAN FRANCISCO FROM A SHOWMAN'S POINT OF VIEW 263 

XX. THE ECHOES WAKE AND REPLY COMEDY AND 

TRAGEDY AT THE EL DORADO . , . . . 277 

XXI. TROTTING OUT THE BABES BESIDE THE PACIFIC . 289 
XXII. A DANCE ON A FLOOR OF GOLD, AND EXPERIENCES 

OF CHINESE THEATRICALS 299 

XXIII. THE GENIAL SHOWMAN IN STRANGE PLACES . . 316 

XXIV. THE WARM-HEARTED PEOPLE OF SANTA CLARA . 332 
XXV. SPIRITUALISM AND CONJURING 343 

XXVI. IN THE CAPITAL OF CALIFORNIA . . . . . 359 

XXVII. THE SHOW IN SIGHT OF THE SIERRA . . . . 37 O 

XXVIII. AMONG THE GOLD MINES WITH OUR " BABES " . 383 

XXIX. WITH OUR FACES TOWARDS THE MORMONS . . 397 

XXX. THE SHOW IN SILVER-LAND 407 

XXXI. STRAIGHT TO THE " SAINTS " OF UTAH . . . 419 

XXXII. SAFE IN SALT LAKE CITY 437 

XXXIII. INSIDE THE MORMON HOTEL 450 

XXXIV. THE CHURCH IN THE THEATRE AND THE THEATRE 

IN THE CHURCH 464 

XXXV. LOOKING DOWN UPON THE MORMONS .... 477 

XXXVI. PRISONERS IN SALT LAKE CITY 484 

XXXVII. AMONG THE LADIES OF SALT LAKE . . . 494 

XXXVIII. THE SHOW OPENS IN NEW YORK . . . . . 505 

XXXIX. IN LONDON — THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN . . 515 



V 

THE 

GENIAL SHOWMAN, 



CHAPTER I. 

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE SHOWMAN. 

ANNO DOMINI 1861. Tuesday, 1 p.m., I was at 
Versailles; three hours previously I had passed 
through London ; in a few hours more I expected to 
arrive at Delhi. 

" We travel very slowly on this railroad," I ventured 
to remark to the -gentleman seated next to me in the 
carriage. 

" It's a kind-a one-horse one/' replied my neigh- 
bour. " Travelling on it is about as cheerful as a 
Quaker meeting-house by moonlight. But Cincinnati 
will wait for us. It won't move farther down the 
Ohio because we don't get thar sooner, that's sure." 

" Perhaps, gentlemen, you are not aware that this 
is Artemus Ward's Railroad?" observed a jovial- 
looking passenger behind me, who had overheard our 
conversation. 

" I haven't the pleasure of being acquainted with 
Mr. Ward," responded the traveller on my left. " But 
the Ohio and Mississippi line, which jines on to us 
presently, was managed by General George B. 
McClellan; and when he looked after it, it war 
handled elegantly." 



^2 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

My curiosity was excited. In the course of ex- 
tensive travel through the United States I had often 
met with the name of " Artemus Ward" attached to 
articles of a peculiarly quaint and comic character, 
copied and re-copied in the newspapers of the 
North and South. The singularity of humour dis- 
played 'in these articles, the originality of the style, 
and the eccentric spelling which the writer used, had 
caused me, in common, I presume, with many 
thousands of others, to wish for information rela- 
tive to the author. Besides, the humorist appeared 
before the world in the character of a showman, 
owning some " wax figgers," or " moral wax 
statoots," as he described them, a "larfable little 
cuss" of a kangaroo, and a " zewological animal like a 
snaik under perfeck subjecshun." Anyone connected 
with the " show" fraternity was at that time one 
whom I very much wished to know. 

I use the word " show" in its American accepta- 
tion, as comprising every class of entertainment, from 
opera and the poetic drama downwards. Artistes and 
performers, whether singers,, actors, or exhibitors, were 
ladies and gentlemen with whom I desired to become 
acquainted. Hence I turned round to my fellow 
traveller behind me in the railway carriage, or " car," 
as they term it in the States, and prosecuted inquiry. 

"May I ask you what ' Artemus Ward' you mean? 
— not c Artemus Ward' the Showman, whose name I 
so frequently see in the newspapers ?" 

" Why, certainly," answered my informant, using 
the mats oui form of affirmation so common in the 
States. " You are aware that we are travelling 
through Indiana? Baldinsville must be somewhere 
about here." 



ON THE WAY TO THE SHOWMAN. 3 

"Then has Mr. Artemus Ward anything to do 
with the railroad ? 9 ' I inquired. 

" Not that I am aware of," replied my communi- 
cative acquaintance. " But you have seen the para- 
graph in the papers, in which he describes his visit as 
the editor of the Baldinsville Bugle to the super- 
intendent of the line, to ask him for a free pass. The 
superintendent told him that the road could not pass 
him even as an editor. f Can't it Y said Artemus. 
' No, sir, it can't/ said the official. Artemus looked 
him full in the eyes, and gave it him hot. f I know 
it can't/ said he ; f it goes so tarnation slow it can't 
pass anything.' This must be the line, and it's just 
what Browne would say." 

" Who is Browne ?" was my next question. 

" Oh, Browne is Artemus Ward. I know him 
very well." 

"And is he a showman? I know most of the 
showmen in the West, but I have not met him among 
them." 

" You may meet him this evening ; he will be in 
Cincinnati on business," replied my informant, evading 
a direct answer to my question. 

" Is he an old man — as one would infer from some 
passages in his writings — or is he merely assuming a 
character, in writing about Baldinsville, when he 
states that he has been in the show business twenty- 
two years and six months ?" 

There was a pause. My fellow traveller took a 
cake of tobacco out of his waistcoat pocket, bit off a 
piece, and, with a twinkle in his eyes, said — 

" Just you hold on ; wait till you see him. I have 
some business with him at the Burnett House in 
Cincinnati to-night. I will introduce you to him if 

B 2 



4 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

you like. I guess you'll find he knows more about 
shows than most of us do. He's smart. He keeps 
his eyes pretty well skinned, I can tell you. There's 
nothing of the woodchuck about him. Do you use 
tobacco ?" 

I declined with thanks the proffer of the cheering 
weed. The gentleman who " used" it seeming un- 
willing to favour me with any more information at 
that time on the subject of the eccentric showman, 
threw himself back in his seat, extended his arms 
along the mahogany framework of the cushion, and 
hummed a few bars of one of the then popular martial 
melodies. 

The train jogged on in the direction of Lawrence- 
burgh. I believe that I avail myself of the right verb 
to describe its motion. Trains in Indiana are not apt 
to glide, nor to skim the surface of the rails with 
unfelt celerity. In the West, the " sleepers/' to 
which the rails are bolted, deserve some other name 
than the technical one accorded to them by the railway 
engineer. They rest on beds so roughly made as to 
suggest any other idea than that of sleeping. Very 
little care is devoted to the preparation of the sub- 
stratum ; and the log which bears the rail has in many 
instances been cut from a tree that grew but a few 
yards from the spot. In half the time which in 
England would be considered requisite for the survey 
and preparation of plans for a new railway, a railway 
of equal length is thought of, surveyed, constructed, 
and the " cars" are running on it in the states west 
of the Alleghanies. Never mind if there are no towns 
along the route; they will spring up by-and-by. 
Never mind if the carriages do get smashed-up now 
and then ; there is wood enough left in the States to 



A RAILWAY IN THE FAB WEST. 5 

build tens of thousands more. Never mind if you are 
jolted while travelling ; if you are bumped, hurtled, 
bruised, made to feel vindictive, and to wish the 
engineer of the line to be in the carriage with you, 
that you might have a chance of throwing him out of 
the window ; all will be forgotten when you arrive 
at the end of your journey. In the years to come 
that line of rail, now running through forests, swamps, 
new-made clearings, and uutilled prairie, will have 
cities, villages, gardens, and corn-fields on each side — 
will have lost all its picturesque wildness, all its 
uncouth crudities, all its youthful eccentricities, and 
will have developed into as solid, smoothly-conducted 
and well-behaved a railway as any in the States of 
that wondrous America, wherein rapidity of growth is 
as great a marvel as fertility of enterprise. 

Arriving at Lawrenceburgh, the train waited a few 
minutes, and then, turning off in a north-easterly 
direction, proceeded along the bank of the Ohio river. 
At length it arrived at a swamp, over which, and over 
the Miami river, an affluent of the Ohio, the rails 
were laid on a bridge of new timber and of very 
suspicious fragility of construction. I remarked to 
the gentleman who sat on my left that the bridge did 
not seem strong enough for a place so dangerous, and 
asked him why it was so newly built and not of 
greater strength. 

" It's a good bridge enough for where it is," was 
his reply. " It gets washed away every year." 

I was not quite sure whether washing-away time 
had arrived, and felt more comfortable when the 
Miami river was crossed, and the bridge in the rear of 
the train. Shortly afterwards, the conductor apprised 
me that we had come to Delhi, which he pronounced 



6 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

as " Del-eye/' with a strong accent on the last syllable. 
I looked out to ascertain what there was about the 
place to remind me of the ancient capital of the Great 
Mogul. Neither palace nor temple was visible, but 
in front of a whisky-shop a number of old playing- 
cards were strewn about the road, and I wished to go 
and turn them over to see if the picture of the East 
Indian monarch was on the back of them, as I 
had seen it so often in my own country. It struck 
me that I might thus trace the derivation of the 
Delhi of the Occident. But I gave up the thought 
when I remembered that I had left Switzerland behind 
me in Indiana, that Athens is in Ohio, that Glasgow 
and Paris are in Kentucky, and that Rome and Troy 
are in the State of New York. 

The railway terminus, or " depot" as it is termed in 
America, was more than a mile from the city. Omni- 
buses were in attendance to convey the passengers to 
Cincinnati. Before taking the one which suited me 
best, I reminded my fellow traveller of his promise to 
introduce me to Mr. Artemus Ward that evening, and 
I pledged myself to meet him at the Burnett House 
at the hour he appointed. 

Hotels in the United States have been made the 
theme of copious description by nearly every one who 
has written a book on American travel, but among 
the various classes of travellers who resort to them, 
few experience so much of their comforts and dis- 
comforts, or know them so well, as the itinerant show- 
man in the course of his nomadic, unsettled career. 
By him they are looked upon as among the chief 
objects of interest in every city which he visits. If 
he be a true type of the genuine American showman, 
he will be well informed on the several points of ex- 



THE BURNETT HOUSE, CINCINNATI. 7 

cellence of each of these establishments ; he will be 
personally known to the proprietor of each, he will be on 
familiar terms with the hotel clerks, and will be fully- 
cognizant of which is the best house to stop at, in order 
to advertise his eutertainment and to dispose of tickets 
for his show. Prominent among the best hotels of the 
United States, from a showman's point of view, let 
me rank the Burnett House in Cincinnati, of which 
Messrs. Johnson, Saunders, and Co. were proprietors. 
Whether they still conduct it after the lapse of seven 
years, I am not aware; but, at the time of which I 
write, they illustrated that which in America is thought 
to be one of the greatest proofs of human excellence 
— they understood hotel management. "When a man 
falls short of perfection it is a common mode of pro- 
nouncing judgment upon him to say that he is " a 
very clever fellow, but he can't keep an hotel." 

Were a tourist to wander into Cincinnati for the 
first time, and not be informed to the contrary, his 
first glimpse of the Burnett House might lead him to 
suppose it to be the City Hall, the State House, or the 
Government offices for the entire West. Its columned 
portico is approached by a broad and steep flight of 
stone steps ; there are terraces with stone balustrades 
in front of its windows, and there is a great dome 
surmounting its central portion, giving to it in the 
distance the appearance of a small edition of the 
Capitol at Washington. Its internal arrangements 
are like those of most Western hotels — the large 
entrance hall, the counter with the hotel clerks be- 
hind it, and the register-book on the top of it ; the 
leaves of which register-book are being constantly 
thumbed and turned over by gentlemen who ease 
their troubled minds by finding comfort in lolling 



8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

against the counter and studying the list of names. 
There are advertisements of railways around the walls 
of the entrance-hall, and, in cold weather, a stove in 
the centre. Nursing the stove in winter, and lolling 
on the seats in summer, are the occupations of the 
gentlemen visitors, some of whom are boarders 
and others " loafers/-* who have no better' way of 
employing their time. There is no porter in livery to 
open the door, nor any policeman on the steps to call 
cabs and to terrify intrusive little boys. The entrance- 
hall is a lounge for all who choose to avail themselves 
of it, an exchange for those who wish to meet on 
business, and an information office for those who 
seek intelligence, or are desirous of learning the 
latest news. It is a place of continuous bustle, of 
stirring life and considerable noise ; a place resonant 
with the ring of bells and reeking with the reek of 
tobacco. 

At the hour appointed I strolled into the Burnett 
House and looked around among the various groups for 
my acquaintance of the railway carriage. Presently 
I perceived him, seated beside a light-haired gentle- 
man of youthful appearance, with whom he was en- 
gaged in conversation. Recognising me, he beckoned 
me to make my way towards him, and, after first 
asking me for my name, with which he had not been 
previously furnished, introduced me to the gentleman 
with whom he had been conversing. The introduction 
was without ceremony, and in that easy off-hand 
manner in which one person is made acquainted with 
another in the United States. 

" Charles/'' said he, addressing his companion, " I 
met this gentleman in the cars to-day. He has read 
some of your writings, and wants to see the great 



I MEET TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 9 

showman of Baldinsviile — Artemus Ward. So I told 
him to come and look at you." 

I was bewildered. 

I expected -to see an elderly man with a shrewd 
face and u busy wrinkles round his eyes/' like those 
of Tennyson's miller; a man of cunning look 
and rough exterior, who had mingled much with 
the world, and who, by travel and long experience 
of the rough-and-tumble life of a showman, had 
qualified himself to be the Mentor to so inexperienced 
a Telemachus as myself. No trace of my ideal 
presented itself in the gentleman to whom I was 
introduced. He was apparently not more than 
twenty-five years old, slendsr in build, frank, open 
and pleasant in demeanour, with ruddy cheeks, bright 
eyes, and a voice soft, gentle, and musical. Instead 
of an old showman I saw a young man, who, judging 
from his appearance, might have just left college. 
Instead of the sort of person usually found travelling 
with a wax-work exhibition, I met a gentleman who 
might have passed for a youthful member of one of 
the learned professions. Feeling some doubts about 
my having been introduced to the right man, and 
half- suspecting that I was being made the victim of a 
hoax, I asked hesitatingly if the gentleman were really 
Mr. Artemus Ward. 

" This is my friend Mr. Charles Browne, who 
pleases to call himself Artemus Ward/' replied my in- 
troducer. " Fll vouch for him, but not for his show. 
As for his kangaroo, I don't go anything on him." 

Very little time elapsed before we were on terms 
of chatty acquaintance. Presently Artemus Ward 
interrupted the conversation to inquire whether or not 
I was an Englishman. I replied that I was, when he 



io TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

again offered to shake hands, and said, half in earnest 
and half in jest — 

" I like Englishmen ; this is the hotel your Prince 
of Wales stopped at when he came through here last 
summer. By the bye, how is the Prince ? Give my 
compliments to him when you see him. Suppose we 
go down and hoist to him." 

" To hoist/'' or, to give the pronunciation more 
closely, " to hyst," is, in American parlance, to indulge 
in a drink. The bar of the Burnett House is down- 
stairs. Thither we adjourned, and after duly toasting 
the health of his Royal Highness in some very excel- 
lent Bourbon, the genial " showman/'' addressing me, 
said — 

" My friend and I are going round to see the 
shows in Cincinnati to-night, and we mean to visit the 
Infernal Regions. Will you join us V 

" Willingly/'' I replied ; " but pray what are the 
Infernal Regions ?" 

" Don't be frightened. Come and see." 

Thus it was that I first met Artemus Ward. 



It was our destiny that we should become intimate 
in after years. As we shook hands together for the 
first time, I felt that we were to know one another 
better, and that our first meeting was not to be our 
last. 

Among the humorists who rose to eminence during 
the American War, Artemus Ward was the raciest. 
Among the satirists of the period he was the gentlest 
and the most genial. I write of him as one of whom 
I saw much, and with whom I travelled far. We 
planned together many enterprises, travelled as show- 



TEE LIFE-STORY YET TO BE TOLD. n 

men with the same " show/' and participated in many 
odd adventures. Born in that part of New England 
where Nature wears her sternest and her roughest 
aspect, Artemus Ward lived to become known as one 
of the most mirthful and most tender-hearted of her 
children. 

In quiet Elm Vale Cemetery, at Water ford, in his 
native state of Maine, near the cottage in which he 
was born, and beneath the shadow of Mount Vernon, 
the mountain which he climbed in his boyhood — 
between the grave of his father, who lived not long 
enough to know of his son's fame, and the grave of 
Cyrus the brother whom he loved — Artemus Ward is 
buried. 

In writing the story of Artemus Ward's career, 
and in relating what I saw of show-life in America 
whilst associated with that career, I purpose to give to 
the public all that I know of Artemus Ward, in the 
order in which my knowledge of him was gained, 
from the day of my first meeting with him in Cincin- 
nati, to that later and more mournful day when with 
dim eyes I watched the steamer " Deutschland" glide 
slowly down Southampton Water, bearing amongst its 
freight a coffin removed from Kensal-green Cemetery 
and consigned to a grave beyond the Atlantic. 



i2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER II. 

ENJOYING "THE HONEYMOON," AND VISITING 
"THE INFERNAL REGIONS. " 

" ^V/ r OU Britishers can't show an Opera-house like 
JL that in your country. Every brick is made 
of whisky and all the mortar's pork." 

So said Mr. H , of the Cincinnati Enquirer, 

when he first escorted me over Pike's Opera House, 
in Cincinnati; by which extraordinary metaphor I 

afterwards understood Mr. H to mean, that the 

edifice referred to owed its origin to the successful 
trade in whisky carried on by the proprietor, Mr. 
Samuel Naphthali Pike, and that the flourishing 
state of the pork-exportation business in Cincinnati 
generally, caused money to be plentiful and the 
opera-house to be patronized. Incongruous as the 
mixture of whisky, pork, and opera may at first appear 
to be, the idea of incongruity is dispelled when 
the facts are ascertained that greater part of the 
wealth of the inhabitants of Cincinnati has resulted 
from trading in pork and dealing in whisky; and 
that with the accumulation of wealth have arisen a 
desire for amusement and an inclination to cultivate 
the fine arts and the drama. At the period of which 
I write, Cincinnati was singular in its possession of 
an opera-house. In the Eastern cities there were 



TIKE'S OPEBA HOUSE, CINCINNATI. 13 

establishments much larger in dimensions, devoted 
chiefly to operatic representations, but, in deference to 
the puritanical ideas of the citizens, they were called 
" Academies of Music," not " Opera Houses." In so 
styling them, there was a distinction without a dif- 
ference which rendered them more acceptable to the 
popular taste. Except Maguire's Opera House at San 
Francisco, I believe that Mr. Pike's in Cincinnati had 
no rival by name in the United States. 

A very noble building was Pike's Opera House, 
and one of which the chief city of Ohio had every 
reason to be proud. It stood on Fourth-street, pre- 
senting a most imposing elevation and being de- 
cidedly the greatest ornament of the town. On the 
basement story was an extensive bookselling esta- 
blishment, the pit portion of the auditorium being 
considerably above the level of the street, the 
visitors having to ascend a flight of marble steps. 
Internally the decorations were worthy of any theatre 
in America or Europe; the seating accommodation 
was superior to that of our London houses, and 
an air of sumptuous grandeur in all the appoint- 
ments caused a stranger on first entering to feel no 
little surprise, especially if his previous ideas of " out 
West" had led him to anticipate a lack of the refine- 
ments of civilization. Still more surprised was he 
likely to be on learning that no Duke of Bedford, nor 
Earl Dudley, nor body of shareholders, nor govern- 
ment subvention had been required for the erection of 
a structure so magnificent, but that Mr. Pike had at 
first traded in whisky, and then distilled whisky, in 
the course of which processes he had extracted number- 
less dollars and obtained a fine spirit of enterprise. 
Mr. Pike is a gentleman of musical taste and an excel- 



i 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

lent flautist. The operatic muse objected to come over 
the Alleghanies to visit Porkopolis, as Cincinnati is 
sometimes called; there being no fitting house for her re- 
ception. Mr. Pike resolved to build one. He expended 
a fair fortune in doing so ; and let it not be said that 
Art is without patrons in the West, when one lover of it 
reared on the banks of the Ohio a temple so worthy of 
the art he loves. In the course of his tour through 
the United States, the Prince of Wales accepted an 
invitation to a ball in the Cincinnati Opera House, and 
I believe that Mrs. Pike was honoured by being his 
partner in the first quadrille. The house exists no 
longer. Fire, that formidable foe of opera-houses, was 
no less unkind to Mr. Pike in America than it had 
previously been to Mr. Gye, or has been still later to 
Mr. Mapleson, in London. Playing the old role of the 
phoenix, Pike's Opera House has risen out of its ashes, 
but finding that it could be a phoenix it determined to 
use its wings, and flying eastward,* has taken up its place 
of rest in the city of New York, whither Mr. Pike has 
gone also, and where, with another distillery in full 
operation, I understand that he cultivates music on a 
basis of whisky, even as before now literature has 
been cultivated on a little oatmeal. 

I have been thus lengthy in my reference to Pike's 
Opera House for two reasons ; one of which is that 
seven years ago it was the grandest place of the kind 
anywhere in the West, and the second reason being 
that it was the first theatre to which I went with 
Artemus Ward. 

A dramatic company had possession of the Opera 



* This building has since become the property of the well- 
known banker, Mr. JFisk. 



ENJOYING " THE HONEYMOON" 15 

House, and the play of the evening was Tobin's comedy 
of The Honeymoon. Artemus Ward, two of his friends 
and myself, were courteously shown to seats in the 
dress-circle, with that politeness which is always 
shown in the United States to the " dead-head" as he 
is called, or the person who is passed into the theatre 
without being called upon to pay for admission. The 
play was very badly acted. The Duke Aranza of the 
evening was a little worse than usual. Artemus 
Ward masked his face with his hands, watched the 
action of the piece with ill-concealed laughter, and 
when the drop-curtain fell, said, turning to me, — 

" I am going over to your country some day, and 
shall want you to introduce me to Mr. Tobin." 

Unused as I then was to the pleasantries of my new 
acquaintance, I felt puzzled, and innocently asked, — 

" Do you mean John Tobin who wrote The Honey- 
moon?" 

" I do. He's a good and great man. I want to 
thank him." 

" John Tobin has been dead these fifty years," I 
replied. " Is it possible that you are not aware of* 
this being a very old comedy ?" 

Artemus Ward preserved his gravity. Grasping me 
warmly by the hand, he continued in a well-affected 
^oice of emotion, " I am sorry, indeed I am sorry. I 
wanted to see Mr. Tobin very much. Mr. Tobin has 
done me a great deal of good in his time ; Mr. Tobin 
has been very kind to me. Whenever I have wanted 
to see any bad acting I have always found it when The 
Honeymoon has been on the bills; whenever Fve had 
to report an amateur performance or to take a young 
lady to the play, I have been sure to see The Honey- 
moon. Much honeymoon is on my brain. It oppresses 



16 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

my hearty and I have hoped one day to be able to go 
to England just to call on Mr. Tobin to say how 
grateful I am, and — to kick him!" 

After that , my first lesson, I learned to be more 
guarded in my readiness to supply information to 
Artemus Ward. Subsequent experience taught me 
that he was very fond of enjoying a harmless laugh at 
the expense of his friends, and that his manner of 
joking among them frequently took the form of his 
joke with me in reference to the old dramatist, whose 
well-worn comedy is the last resource of many a 
travelling company in difficulties, and the bete noir of 
many a used-up playgoer. 

From Pike's Opera House we adjourned to Wood's 
Theatre in Vine- street, where not finding some friends 
whom he expected to see, and not caring to witness 
the performance, Artemus Ward proposed that our 
stay should be very brief, and that we should proceed 
at once on our previously agreed upon visit to the 
Infernal Regions. 

Partially following the plan adopted in Philadel- 
phia, Cincinnati has a similar arrangement and nomen- 
clature of streets. The streets running parallel 
with the Ohio river are named in their numerical 
order, and the streets crossing them at right angles 
mostly after the names of trees. Third-street is the 
street of business offices, and Fourth-street the 
main avenue of the town. In St. Louis and some 
other western cities Fourth-street is. similarly honoured. 
In Philadelphia, Chestnut-street is the principal of the 
streets running down to the river, but in Cincinnati, 
Walnut- street takes chief rank amongst the cross 
thoroughfares. There are three or four places of 
amusement in Vine-street, while the National Theatre 



Plate II. 



AN EMIGRANT CARAVAN ON THE PLAINS. 




Nearly all the inhabitants of Salt Lake City have had to travel thither 
in emigrant trams, undergoing countless hardships on the way. Skeletons 
of animals and remains of broken-down vehicles serve to mark out the track. 



THE "NOBLE SAVAGE.' 




On the right of this picture is a scaffold erected for an Indian grave. 
The corpse is placed on the top of it, out of the way of the wolves, though 
jiojjufficiently protected to prevent the vultures and other birds of mev 



EN ROUTE TO TEE "INFERNAL REGIONS." 17 

and the building containing the Infernal Regions are 
both in Sycamore-street, between the streets which are 
distinguished by the numerals three and four. 

Artemus Ward, his friends and myself, stopped for 
a few minutes at Mr. John Bates's National Theatre, 
just to call upon Mr. John Bates, whom we found 
seated in a grocery store under the front of his play- 
house, where he sold bottled whisky and brown sugar, 
soap, sauces, rum and raisins, together with other ex- 
cellent articles common to a western grocery shop. 
Unlike Mr. Pike, who had gone from whisky up to 
opera, Mr. Bates had commenced with theatricals and 
was coming down from the drama to the whisky 
trade. We wished him prosperity and passed on. 
Our place of destination was only a few doors lower 
down ; and a very dingy, unattractive place it appeared 
to be, so far as I could form an opinion from its ex- 
ternal characteristics. There were a few dirty bills 
posted about the entrance ; there were the ruins of a 
hand-organ sending forth doleful sounds inside; there 
was a dingy light burning in the passage, and there 
appeared to be a most plentiful supply of dirt and dust 
in the interior, judging from the samples furnished at 
the very entrance. The title of " Infernal Regions" 
had led me to anticipate a strange place, and my first 
impressions of the exterior were in thorough conformity 
with that which I had expected. Artemus Ward play- 
ing the part of Virgil and I that of Dante, we boldly 
entered the Inferno of the city of Cincinnati. 

A hasty glance around the first apartment which we 
penetrated, and a study of one of the bills therein dis- 
played, were enough to inform me that we were at 
The Museum, and that the manager's name was Mr. 
W. Allen. 

c 



18 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

A " Museum" in the TInited States means some- 
thing very different from that which we understand 
by the same word in Europe. There was Mr. 
Barnum's Museum in New York, and there is Mr. 
Kimball's Museum in Boston ; but neither of them 
had nor has any very close resemblance to the national 
treasure-house of the Louvre, the establishment at 
South Kensington, or that in Great Russell- street, 
Bloomsbury. A " Museum" in the American sense 
of the word means a place of amusement, where- 
in there shall be a theatre, some wax figures, a giant 
and a dwarf or two, a jumble of pictures, and a few 
live snakes. In order that there may be some excuse 
for the use of the word, there is in most instances a 
collection of stuffed birds, a few preserved animals, and 
a stock of oddly assorted and very dubitable curiosities ; 
but the mainstay of the "Museum" is the "live art," 
that is, the theatrical performance, the precocious 
mannikins, or the intellectual dogs and monkeys. 

Years ago there used to be in Holborn, near the 
top of Drury Lane, an exhibition, to which the charge 
for admission was two-pence or a penny. Any one 
who remembers the place will be able to form an idea 
of the exterior of the " Infernal Regions" in Cincin- 
nati; but nothing we ever had in London could 
equal the entertainment provided for the visitor to the 
Ohio show-shop. In the lower part of the place were 
broken models and stuffed pigs, rusty swords and guns 
said to have been picked up on the battle ground of 
Tippecanoe, Indian spears, leather hunting-dresses, and 
oddly-shaped stones. There was a thunderbolt which 
"had been seen to fall in Kentucky," and some frag- 
ments of ancient temples from the ruins of Sodom and 
Gomorrah (!). All were foul with dust and be- 



HOW TO MAKE UP A MUSEUM SHOW. 19 

grimed with the soot of lamps. An odour of mustiness 
seemed to emanate from every object, and something 
suggested the idea of ugly spiders being concealed in 
every cranny and crevice. In the apartment above, 
matters were in a little better condition. The stuffed 
birds still retained some of the original colour- 
ing of their plumage, and the hide of the " Horrid 
Alligator of the Amazon," had been fingered by 
visitors until its scales had become more polished than 
they ever had been in the slime of its native river. In 
a back room was a small and interesting collection of 
coins and medals ; ranged against a wall were a 
number of glass cases filled with curiosities preserved 
in spirits. Prominent among these were two bottles, 
one containing a human head, and the other a human 
hand. The head was that of a murderer, whose 
name, if I remember rightly, was " Heaver" or 
" Hever," and the hand was the actual right hand 
with which he had murdered his victim. Our guide 
hurried us away from the inspection of these unplea- 
sant objects, to go with him and see the wax-work 
portion of the exhibition. 

There is no really good wax-work collection in the 
United States. Were the executors of Madame 
Tussaud to send over the Baker-street one just as it 
is, and arrange to show it a month or two in one city, 
and then a month or two in another, they would 
rapidly make a fortune. Wax- works in the American 
cities are about on a par with those which used to be 
exhibited at English fairs twenty years ago. Those in 
the Cincinnati Museum I presume to have been ori- 
ginally displayed at Knot Mill Fair, Manchester, or 
on Glasgow Green. At any rate, the wickerwork 
bodies and limbs may have seen service there at one 

c % 



20 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

time ; while the wax faces may really be of trans- 
atlantic manufacture, from the atelier of some Italian- 
American citizen. 

" I wish we could only get the cases open/'' said 
Artemus Ward, looking at them wistfully. "We'd 
take off General Washington's head, and put it on the 
shoulders of Queen Victoria/' 

Whether Artemus Ward had attempted to play any 
practical jokes at the wax-works during one of his 
previous visits I know not, but the attendant, after 
watching us closely for some time, came up and 
entered into conversation. He had evidently seen our 
guide before. 

"All the same, gentlemen — all the same. We are 
scass of anything new. General Fremont is the last ; 
but thar's a mistake in the figger. He's not such a 
whaler of a man as that ; but we had nothing else to 
spare." 

"Whose body have you used for him?" asked 
Artemus. 

" It's the Emperor of Russia's. We'd done with 
him, and the varmints had got into his clothes." 

" And how's the Queen of Sheba ? Has she had 
any snakes in her lately ?" continued our guide. 

The attendant laughed and shook his head. 
" Wall no, I guess not," he replied. " She's alius 
givin' us trouble, but she's had no snakes." 

Our curiosity was roused relative to the eccentri- 
cities of the Queen of Sheba, a dirty wax figure, 
dressed in very tawdry robes of coloured muslin, and 
adorned with a large quantity of cheap Connecticut 
or Massachusetts jewels. One of our party asked the 
man for further information. He was told that 
sometime back the museum contained among other 



MISFORTUNES OF THE QUEEN OF SHEBA. 21 

attractions some live snakes from South America. 
One of these snakes became missing. It was sought 
for in every corner of the building, but without a 
discovery being made of its place of concealment. In 
the wax-work part of the exhibition, the Queen of 
Sheba was represented as bending on the left knee, 
offering gifts of diamond rings and gold snuff-boxes 
to King Solomon. The attendants were annoyed at 
finding the gifts, on more occasions than one, not in 
her majesty's hand, but fallen on the floor. They 
picked them up and replaced them, but in no way 
could they account for their falling. At length, 
watching the figure, they noticed the body to shake 
first, and then the arm, the offerings to King Solomon 
again falling on the floor. 

" We were a bit skeart," said the attendant, " for 
she was awful nervous. I saw her shake all over 
as if she had the chills and fevers. That was after 
she dropped the royal presents. When we'd got 
the people out we undressed her, and thar in her 
stomach, and half way up her arm, we found that 
cussed snake/'' 

Many a time afterwards, in rambles through the 
Eastern States of the Union, in crossing the plains on our 
journey to Salt-lake City, and during his residence in 
London, I asked Arteraus Ward if his idea of the wax- 
figure exhibition in his earlier papers had not been 
suggested to him by one of his previous visits to the 
Cincinnati Museum. He never gave me a direct 
answer to the question, but I strongly suspect that it 
was there, where we heard of the disasters to the 
Queen of Sheba, that he received the first thought of 
t( The miscellanyus moral wax statoots" of celebrated 
piruts and murderers, ekalled by few and exceld by 



22 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

none." The story of the Queen of Sheba may also 
have given him the notion of adding a collection of 
snakes to his imaginary show. 

The hour had arrived for the exhibition of the 
Infernal Regions to commence ; and the visitors began 
to make their way towards a narrow door leading to 
an equally narrow and very steep staircase. Thither 
our party of four proceeded. What sort of an exhi- 
bition we were going to see I knew not, but the 
approach to the place in which we were about to 
witness it was anything but inviting. Nor was the 
way of approach suggestive ; up steep stairs to the 
infernal regions did not strike me as being the correct 
sort of thing. There was a discrepancy between it 
and the " facilis descensus Averni" of one's school-day 
reading, though I might have remembered that Dante, 
" in mezzo del cammin," climbed a steep hill, meet- 
ing a panther, a lion, and a she-wolf on the way, 
before he had the good-fortune to fall in with Virgil, 
and accept his escort to the world of punishment. 
Up the narrow, dirty, and rickety staircase we 
struggled with a dozen or so of other visitors, who 
were equally as anxious to enjoy the horrors awaiting 
them above. Arrived at the top of the stairs, our 
party found themselves to be in a small gloomy sort 
of room, or gallery, very insufficiently lighted. There 
were a few rows of seats, and accommodation alto- 
gether for about thirty or forty people, if tightly 
packed. The front of the gallery was furnished with 
a series of bars, extending from the floor to the ceil- 
ing ; and, looking between these prison-like bars, our 
first view of the Infernal Regions was obtained. 

Somewhere on the continent of Europe there is 
a church which contains two transparencies; one 



PARADISE AND PANDEMONIUM. 23 

intended to represent Paradise, and the other Pande- 
monium. On the afternoon of my visit to that church 
years ago, a good priest had twenty or thirty children 
around him, to whom he lectured on the joys of 
heaven and the tortures in waiting for the sinful. 
When he described the future life of the good, he 
caused the lights to burn brightly behind the picture 
of Paradise ; and when he talked to his young hearers 
of what would be their fate if they followed a life of 
wickedness, he had the lights turned up behind the 
transparency of Pandemonium. By means of hidden 
machinery, flames were made to dart up and 
down, while figures of sinners in agony apparently 
writhed in the imitation fire. Had that good 
priest visited the city of Cincinnati, and gone to 
the exhibition of The Infernal Regions, he would pos- 
sibly have wished to barter for it his Pandemonium, 
and been willing to throw the Paradise into 
the bargain; for looking through the bars we 
peered down into a large, dusky, black " chamber 
of horrors," in which there was just light enough 
reflected from the dim gas-jets in the gallery to enable 
us to make out the obscure outlines of many weird 
and hideous figures. The floor of this chamber was 
some feet below that of the gallery in which we 
were stationed. 

As the eye became accustomed to the gloom, we could 
discern that the figures on the other side of the 
bars were intended to . represent demons, fiends, 
serpents, dragons, skeletons, hobgoblins, and animals 
of forms more fearfully fantastic than any which Mr. 
Hawkins has figured as inhabiting a hypercarbonized 
earth in pre-adamite times. The face of each figure was 
turned towards us, and the mouth of each dragon or 



24 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

serpent was wide open. Nearer to the bars than any 
of the other figures was something not quite an 
elephant nor a hippopotamus, though its body resembled 
that of one of those animals ; its face was more like 
that of a lion, while its tail was one of those won- 
drous structures one might fancy in a dream after a 
supper of raw pork — one which no comparative ana- 
tomist would have the hardihood to classify among the 
tails of things living, or that have lived. There was 
another monster, with something like the body of a 
bull and the head of a satyr. The artist probably 
intended it for the Minotaur of ancient Crete. Oddest 
of all the figures was that of the Genius of Evil him- 
self, with the orthodox tail and hoof, but with horns 
of unnecessary length, and eyes of disproportionate 
magnitude. In his right hand he carried a pitchfork, 
while with his left hand he supported his tail, so as to 
expose to view its barbed extremity. 

The little group of visitors in the gallery seemed 
to be composed of two classes, the perfect strangers, 
and the knowing ones who had been to the exhibition 
before. Exclamations of terror from the strangers 
bore evidence to its being their first visit, while the 
habitues disclosed their acquaintance with the place by 
pointing out the various objects to those who were 
with them : — 

"Thar's Old Nick; you'll see him presently ; he's 
awful good/' 

" That's the Old Sarpint ; wait a bit, he'll skear 
you." 

" I reckon you'll like the Raging Lion ; he's like 
all fury — he is." 

Suddenly, and without any warning, the lights in 
the gallery were turned down; two or three of the 



THE HOME OF TEE HOBGOBLINS. 25 

visitors yelled with fear, the knowing ones howled to 
terrify the timid a little more, and the performance 
commenced. 

There was the clang of a gong, followed by a 
mingled sound of roars and groans. The chamber 
became more illumined, and it. was easily to be seen 
that the various figures were in motion, the serpents 
began to crawl, each of them thrusting out a 
large tongue ; the skeleton commenced to glide along 
a railway laid down upon the floor; and, as it 
approached the bars of the gallery, to raise the 
right arm and shake the spear held in its hand. The 
winged demons flapped their goblin wings, radiant with 
tinsel and vampire-like in form ; the gentleman in 
black made his way towards the bars with noiseless 
step, thrust his pitchfork towards the audience, 
twisted the barb of his tail up to the height of his 
head and shook a claw-like hand in the faces of three 
of the more youthful visitors who had taken front 
places close against the bars, and who did not seem 
to be in the least afraid. 

u Now for the Ragm/ Lion ! his dander's rism' P 1 
exclaimed one of the youthful party, as the strange 
hybrid monster nearest to us began to move its 
eyes, lash its tail, and turn its head. Then came 
a loud roar and a series of shrieks and yells. With 
these were presently combined the din of some 
gongs, the discord of what sounded like two or 
three violoncellos each out of tune, the shaking of 
chains, an imitation of an Indian war-whoop and the 
roll of a muffled drum. Amidst all the hullaballoo the 
far end of the hobgoblin's home became strongly illu- 
mined, and the regions of fire disclosed to view by means 
of a bright red transparency with moving flames. 



26 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The audience were now supposed to be terrified 
to the requisite extent, and the time for instruction 
and edification had arrived. The figure with the 
horns and the tail, after once more brandishing 
his pitchfork, commenced addressing the audience, 
speaking with a very husky tone, but with a deep 
moral purpose. He announced himself as " Lucifer," 
and proceeded to inform his visitors that unless they 
behaved themselves properly he should have to claim 
them at some future time. 

" I shall hev to hev you," said he, an assurance 
which the three youths in the front replied to 
by endeavouring to jerk some pea-nuts through 
the eye-holes of the mask, a proceeding which the 
Spirit of Evil resented by endeavouring to strike 
them with his pitchfork. The Raging Lion, perceiving 
how things were going, moved ponderously to the 
assistance of his fellow fiend. Instantly the shower 
of pea-nuts became fierce and furious. 

" It's young haythen yez are,iveryone of ye," groaned 
the Raging Lion, using an unmistakeable brogue. 
u Ye don't riverince the divil yourself, and ye wont 
allow the ladies and gintlemen to. Ah, get out 
wid ye !" 

A handful of pea-nuts well aimed passed in between 
the jaws of the monster and into the mouth of the 
speaker inside, causing him to cough violently. Whilst 
the youths were laughing at the effect produced, 
one of them incautiously placed his arm too far 
within the bars. It was immediately seized by a 
hand thrust forth from the mouth of the Raging 
Lion, and while so held the youth was well cuffed 
by the gentleman with the tail and horns. Amidst 
the uproar which ensued the lights were ex tin- 



A RAGING LION. 27 

guished in the lower chamber and turned up in 
the gallery. 

The show was over ; the audience rushed to 
the staircase. Artemus Ward stepped towards the 
Raging Lion, spoke a few words to it, and threw a 
silver coin into its mouth. From its interior came 
forth a voice of gratitude — " Thanks, yer honour. 
It's the likes of ye should come ivery night to the 
raygions." 

No joyous child ever felt more intense delight in 
the glories of a pantomime than did Artemus Ward 
in witnessing this grotesque exhibition. When we 
had passed out of the building and were strolling up 
Sycamore-street, I remarked to him that I thought 
he liked the actors at the Infernal Regions much 
better than those at Pike's opera. 

" They feel more at home in their parts/' was his 
reply. " It's the best show in Cincinnati." 

Visiting the same museum at a later period, I was 
told that its early history is blended with that of 
Hiram Powers, the sculptor of the famous statue of 
" The Greek Slave." My information must be 
taken quantum valeat, but I was assured that while 
resident in Cincinnati during his younger days, 
Hiram Powers designed and modelled the hobgob- 
lins and demons in the exhibition of the Infernal 
Regions. 



28 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE OHIO RIVER A SHOWMAN AFLOAT. 

YOUR Sunday in Cincinnati depends for the 
amount of enjoyment on which side you take 
it. Taken on the side nearest the river it is grave ; 
taken on the side farthest from the Ohio, it is gay. 
Taken one way it is English or American, taken 
the other way it is Continental. Travellers usually 
prefer a little of both. Running through the middle 
of the city is the White Water Canal, familiarly 
designated as " the Rhine ;" and " over the Rhine" 
is the German quarter, or half of the city, with a popu- 
lation exceeding 60,000. 

On Sunday evening American Cincinnati is as 
demure and well-behaved as London or Boston, 
while Teutonic Cincinnati enjoys Sunday in true 
German fashion. There may by this time be some 
alteration in the municipal arrangements, but at the 
period of my last visit the laws which applied to the 
city proper did not affect what some people would 
think to be the city improper, or a over the Rhine." 
All places of amusement were closed on Sunday even- 
ing in Cincinnati of the Americans who spoke English, 
but amongst the citizens who spoke German the 
theatre was open regardless of the day being Sunday ; 
and the voice of song, together with the clink of 



MB. CONWAY'S SERMON. 29 

lager-bier glasses, could be heard in the " Sanger 
Halle/' the " Arbeiter Halle," and in the hall of the 
" Turners." The canal which separates the nationali- 
ties is a poor parody on the Rhine. There are no 
castles on it, but there are some very fine pig-killing 
establishments ; nor is there any Echo of the Lorelei, 
but in its stead the grunt of innumerable swine, con- 
tinually grunting their " Morituri te salutamus" to the 
Csesar of the pork-butchers. 

Sunday followed the evening of the visit to the 
Museum. Early in the day I strolled through the 
German part of the city. Returning down Race- 
street I met Artemus Ward. Opposite the place where 
we met was a chapel, and at the suggestion of a third 
party we went across to it. The preacher was Mr. 
Moncure D. Conway. His text on that occasion was, 
" Issachar is a strong ass couching down between two 
burdens/'' The sermon was wholly a political one. 
If I remember rightly, Mr. Conway found in Issachar 
a comparison for America. He pictured slavery as 
one of the burdens, and an imbecile administra- 
tion the other. Unless I am mistaken, the moral 
of Mr. Conway's discourse was, that the "strong 
ass" should throw off both burdens, and allow itself to 
be ridden by General Fremont. The tendency of the 
sermon was not in accordance with the views of poor 
Artemus. He left the chapel in a somewhat excited 
manner. Little did he think that in a very few years 
to come that same preacher would use him for a text, 
and that the same Mr. Conway would be the orator 
selected to speak the funeral oration in the cold chapel 
near the temporary grave of the humorist on the 
day of his burial in the cemetery at Kensal 
Green in England. 



3 o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

It is not within my power to remember on what 
errand Artemus Ward chanced to be in Cincinnati at 
the time of which I write ; I think that it was upon 
newspaper business, for he was not then the popular 
lecturer which he subsequently became. Possibly he 
was on a visit, for there was at least one family in that 
city with whom he was well acquainted, and with one 
member of which, at a subsequent period, his future 
life was likely to have had a more intimate connexion. 
That his engagement, whatever it was, was not one 
which restricted his movements was evidenced by his 
accepting a proposal made by two or three friends 
to go down the river to Louisville on the next day, 
or the day following. Having to visit Louisville 
on business, I arranged to avail myself of the same 
steamer. 

Cincinnati is in the state of Ohio, on one side of 
the river, and Covington and Newport are in 
Kentucky, on the opposite side. Seven years ago the 
Ohio flowed between slavery and freedom. The 
" Cincinnati Belle," or the " Newport Belle/' was in 
waiting to ferry you from one to the other. Now 
you cross by means of a bridge, and the black man 
can come and go as he pleases. On the morning 
that Artemus Ward and I went on board the Major 
Anderson, United States mail-packet, bound for 
Louisville, the " Stars and Stripes" were waving 
from the buildings on both sides of the stream, 
soldiers in blue uniforms were sauntering on the levee, 
and the slavery question was in about as muddy a 
condition as the waters of the river on which we 
floated. 

To a stranger fresh from Europe, an American river 
steamer is a curiosity ; the shape of the boat, the 



STEAMING ON TEE OHIO. 31 

accommodation met with on board — the whole 
economy of the management, are unlike anything to 
which the Englishman is accustomed on the Thames 
or the Mersey. The Major Anderson was not one of 
the most magnificent boats of her class, but she was 
a very fair specimen of the vessels on the Ohio. At 
the clerk's office on board I paid two dollars and 
a half for my fare to Louisville, in return for 
which the clerk handed me the key of my cabin, 
with a long stick attached to it, to prevent its 
being lost. In the cabin was the following 
" notice to passengers." I quote it because there 
are some points about it which render it worthy of 
imitation : — 

" Notice to Passengers. 

" Life preservers will be found hanging in the 
rooms, or under the head of each bed; they are 
adjusted similar to putting on a jacket or a waistcoat, 
fastening the straps across the breast. The life- 
boat, &c, will be found on the hurricane-deck. The 
doors and blinds can be lifted off the hinges, and 
make good life-preservers ; also the cotton mattresses." 

The saloon of the steamer was long, the view from 
stem to stern being almost uninterrupted ; the decora- 
tions were white and gold. At the stern end there 
was a piano, and comfortable seats for the lady pas- 
sengers : while at the forward extremity of the saloon 
were the clerk's office, a bar for the accommodation 
of the thirsty, and a stove with seats around it for 
those who wished to chat and to smoke. My new 
friends and I ascended to the hurricane-deck, where 
we could watch the busy scene at the levee before 
starting. There were steamboats for Maysville, 



32 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

Portsmouth, Ironton, Ashland, .Pittsburgh, Marietta, 
and Gallipolis. 

When the steamer glided off, we first passed a 
suburb of factories, and then between ranges of hills 
cultivated as vineyards to their very summits. The 
banks of the Ohio, and those of its tributary, the 
" Singing Sciota," are famous for the growth of the 
grape. Chief among the wines of the locality is the 
celebrated " Catawba," of which Longfellow sings : — 

" Very good in its way- 
Is the Verzenay 

Or the Sillery soft and creamy ; 
But Catawba wine 
Has a taste more divine, 

More dulcet, delicious, and dreamy." 

" Sparkling Catawba" has a muscatel flavour, with 
a dash of bitter intermixed. Who but he who has 
travelled in America during the hot months of the 
year knows anything of the glories of a " Catawba 
Cocktail/'' made as it is at the bar of the Tremont 
House, the Revere, or Parker House, in Boston ? 
Flavour, fragrance, and beauty are all united in 
that delicious draught. Who but an educationally 
qualified American " bar-tender" knows how to com- 
pound the appetizing, odoriferous, amethyst-coloured 
nectar? Who else but he would understand the 
precise number of drops of bitter to add to the catawba, 
the right mode of using the ice, how to float the 
freshly -gathered strawberry on the surface, and how 
properly to " frost" the rim of the glass with pulverized 
sugar, so that sweetness should precede amaritude, 
and perfume be blended with brilliancy? On two 
other continents besides that of America have I 
tasted American drinks made by quasi American 
barmen; but their compounds, compared with those 



CATAWBA COCKTAIL. 33 

mixed by the true American artist on his own 
soil, were as different in effect as Verdi's music 
played by Mr. Costa's band, and Verdi's music 
on a barrel-organ, with a tamed monkey turning the 
handle. 

We "took our cocktail" on board the Major 
Anderson, and drank in Catawba our morning draught 
to the health of Mr. Nicholas Longworth, who is or 
was the Perrier, Jouet, Moet, Chandon, and Veuve 
Clicquot of Cincinnati all comprised in one individual. 

One o'clock was the dinner-hour. A stimulus 
for the appetite was taken by most of the pas- 
sengers before sitting down to the early meal. 
Over the bar was a portrait of Major Anderson, 
of Fort Sumpter fame. Enclosed between glass 
was a small piece of bunting cut from the flag 
which had waved over the fort ; and flanking it 
on each side were portraits of General Lyon and 
General Franz Siegel. Below this was a print of 
that celebrated character, " The Arkansas Travel- 
ler," representing him as sitting fiddling in front of a 
wretched cottage, wearing an opossum-skin cap with 
the tail hanging down behind. Just inside the cottage 
door was Mrs. Arkansas Traveller smoking a pipe, 
while a traveller on horseback was vainly endeavour- 
ing to extract from the fiddler plain directions for 
finding the road to Napoleon, or to some other place 
in that cheerful State of Arkansas, where the roads 
are as eccentric as the people, and the paths as devious 
as the ways of the inhabitants. 

The pictures in front of the bar were typical of the 
passengers who were taking their morning drinks and 
chatting on the events of the day. Out of a group of 
three, two of them were Arkansas men and the third 

D 



34 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

a Missourian. The straight hair and the sallow com- 
plexion, the lean body and the long arms, were those of 
the semi-civilized class of men who act as buffers to the 
engine of civilization where it comes in contact with 
the dead wall behind which the Indian skulks and 
the wilderness extends. 

Side by side with these gentlemen of the backwood 
and the prairie were a group of military personages 
in blue uniforms, going down to join the Federal 
army in Kentucky. One of them was a loud- 
speaking captain, who criticised in unmeasured terms 
of reprobation the conduct of his superior officer. 
After fully expressing his mind on that subject, he 
devoted his energies to abusing General Scott, who 
had just left for England. 

" Anyhow you can fix it, he's a slow old fool/' was 
the complimentary remark of this newly-fledged captain 
referring to the famous old general. " His policy was 
always to have his men chawed up — chawed up for 
nothin'. It's jest what he did at Lundy's Lane years 
ago. Now, if you call chawin' up fightin', I ain't 
that way of thinkin'." 

The opinions of the out-spoken little captain were 
not very favourably received by two roughly-bearded 
men, who were each addressed as (i doctor," and who 
in their turn addressed the barkeeper as " doctor" also, 
when they requested him to mix them another cocktail. 

In the midst of his denunciations, the captain was 
interrupted by an impudent Jewish-looking youth, 
whose age could not be more than sixteen, but whose 
expressive face seemed to notify that he had already 
laid in the whole stock of villany required for the next 
twenty years of his life. 

" Jine me in a game of seven-up, Cap ?" The 



TAKING "A SCINTILLATION:' 35 

captain declined the invitation, and the youthful 
gamester applied to the two doctors. They also de- 
clining, he solicited Artemns Ward and myself. Again 
disappointed, he addressed himself to the Missourian. 
The offer was at once accepted, and as the youth sate 
down to play, the handle of a bowie-knife peeped out 
from under his jacket. 

Artemus Ward and his friends were quietly 
watching the sharp play of the Missourian arid the 
youth, when a gentleman of very pleasing address 
stepped up, and addressing Artemus as " Charley/'' 
politely asked him to take " a scintillation/' an invi- 
tation which was afterwards as politely extended to our 
little party. The phrase was a new one to me, but in 
the course of the day I discovered that it was the 
favourite euphemism of the affable gentleman for a 
small quantity of whisky. Not that he drank at all 
himself. A cigarette seemed to be his own chief en- 
joyment, but he was ever ready to offer " a scintilla- 
tion" to any one to whom he was introduced. In the 
course of a brief conversation I ascertained that he 
was agent for a show, and that he was going down to 
Louisville to survey the capabilities of that city as a 
field for money-making. 

" Are you still in the Crimea, and does my friend 
Lord Raglan hold on to his gallant steed as well as 
usual V* inquired Artemus Ward in an affected tone of 
solicitude. 

The question startled me, for the date of the year 
was 1 861, and I had been among the spectators a few 
years previously when the funeral procession of Lord 
Raglan passed through Bristol. 

" The Crimea came to an end in Canada ; Lord 
Raglan is Major Anderson now," was the enigmatical 

d 2, 



36 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

reply. " Still the same old horse, though. Goes 
over the field of battle at night just the same. The 
professor understands his business. It's a big show — 
a very big show. Gentlemen, wont you take a scin- 
tillation?" 

Accustomed as I was to shows of various kinds, I 
felt puzzled about this particular one. Artemus Ward 
noticed my perplexity, was amused at my inability 
to understand the conversation, and requested the 
" Colonel," as he called the agent, to explain to me 
the merits of his particular show. 

We adjourned to the hurricane-deck for the second 
time before dinner; and as the steamer glided down 
the Ohio, with Indiana on our right and Kentucky on 
our left, the " Colonel" described his show. Being a 
man of some education, he spoke without any very 
marked peculiarity of accent, and being aware that 
two at least of our party were acquainted with show- 
life, he conversed without reticence. 

" Ours is a Theatre of Arts/' said he. " There's 
Thiodon's and there's ours. Thiodon is in the Canadas 
now, with the Holy Sepulchre and the Shipwreck. 
His is a very good show, but ours can knock spots out 
of it. It wants life. Ours is bright and nothing but 
animation. Our machinery is perfect, and we always 
light up well. Light's the thing. Gas if you can 
get it. If not, spend your dollars on camphine, and 
don't be afraid. Audiences like lights high and music 
loud. We had nothing but the musical glasses first ; 
now we have a self-acting organ with cymbals in it. 
The boys like the cymbals. Here's our programme — 
Panorama of Europe to begin with. Panorama nbt 
too large, but A No. I. Illumination of St. Peter's 
at Rome to finish off Part i. Then a little min- 



PANORAMIC ART. 37 

strelsy; not too much. Then the Grand Pictorial 
and Mechanical Animated and Moving Representation 
of the Taking of Fort Sumter. That used to be the 
War in the Crimea and the Siege of Sebastopol. The 
Crimea got played out, and we turned it into Fort 
Sumter and Charleston Harbour. Ours are all cut 
figures. The Russians did not want much painting to 
turn them into Secessionists, and we had only to paint 
out the red-coats of the British and colour them in 
blue to make the Federals. Sebastopol stood a little 
too high on the rocks for the city of Charleston, but 
we have painted the rocks down. We turned Bala- 
clava into Castle Pinckney, and we had room enough 
in the Black Sea to slip in a very nice Fort Sumter. 
The same holes which did for us to puff the smoke 
through, in bombarding the Malakoff, do for us in 
firing at Sumter, and Sumter had to have a few 
holes made for it. All fits in and costs no trouble. 
We put the licks in. We did it ourselves. There 
was a night scene in the Crimea with a horse to move, 
and Lord "Raglan to go out on it, to look at the dead 
on the field of battle. Horses are all alike in pictures. 
Lord Raglan makes a good Major Anderson ; but, as 
no one was killed at Fort Sumter, all we can do is 
to suppose the Major to be surveying the ruins from 
James's Island before going on board the steamer for 
New York. Our exhibition is particularly well suited 
for schools. Moral, instructive, and cheap — that's 
what schools want. In making my arrangements 
ahead I call upon the schools and contract with them. 
Five cents each in New England. No getting any 
more there ; ten or fifteen cents anywhere else/' 

As nearly as I can remember, I have quoted the 
very words in which the " Colonel" described his show. 



3 8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The last time that I endeavoured to remember and to 
quote them was when the Mr. Thiodon referred to 
volunteered his services, and came from the Crystal 
Palace to assist poor Artemus in fitting up the pano- 
rama of the Mormons at the Egyptian Hall. 

The sound of a gong announced the arrival of 
dinner-time on board the Major Anderson. To any 
one who has never travelled except in England, the 
ceremony of taking dinner on board an American 
river steamer is peculiar. When we descended to the 
saloon from the hurricane deck we found the majority 
of the male passengers standing up against the doors 
of the state-rooms, or holding on to chairs, waiting 
for the customary signals. The table extended down 
the saloon, the stern end of it being assigned to the 
ladies, and the fore-part to the single gentlemen. A 
small bell was rung, and the ladies at once proceeded 
to take their seats, those who had cavaliers being 
escorted by them in the usual manner. Until all the 
ladies were seated the gentlemen at the lower table 
remained standing. Then a gong sounded — not a 
bell — and plump went all the gentlemen at once into 
their chairs with a rush. Piled up in huge dishes on 
the table were the several kinds of meat provided, 
already carved and cut into slices. Americans are 
proverbial for eating rapidly, and on river steamers in 
the West they eat more rapidly than they do any- 
where else. In twenty minutes from the time of 
commencement the ceremony of dining was completed. 
Supper, as it was called, took place at six o'clock. It 
was conducted in like manner, but with even more 
rapidity. After supper the company broke up into 
small parties ; the ladies occupying the after-part of 
the saloon, to play the piano, read, and flirt, the 



A ROMANTIC YOUNG LADY. 39 

majority of the male passengers selecting tables nearer 
the bar to indulge in one or other of those never- 
failing sources of solace to the western traveller — the 
games of euchre, poker, and seven- up. 

Artemus Ward was not a card-player. Indeed I 
very much doubt if he knew at any time during his 
life how to play the simplest game. His friends pro- 
posed that we should amuse ourselves with euchre. 
Artemus turned away from them with a look of pity, 
and sought the society of the ladies. Amongst the 
fairer portion of the passengers was a very retiring, 
quiet young lady, who wore spectacles, and who ap- 
peared to have the manners, air, and bearing of one 
whose occupation in life was to impart her knowledge 
to others in some college or seminary. That at least 
was the guess which Artemus and I had made about 
her. We had noticed her during the afternoon busily 
engaged in reading About' s story of " Le Koi des 
Montagnes." As soon as supper was over she resumed 
her reading, cutting the leaves of the book with a 
pocket paper-knife as she read on. By what means 
my friend contrived an introduction I am not aware ; 
but I found him in conversation with her when I went 
to request his company to smoke a cigar with me and 
the two military doctors. 

" Excuse me," said Artemus. " This lady was 
asking me if I read French. It is a serious question, 
and I was reflecting whether I do." 

The lady seemed to be a little surprised, and ex- 
plained to me that she had simply asked if my friend 
knew the French language, as she wished to recom- 
mend to him the story she herself had been reading 
during the afternoon. 

" It is a story about brigands in Greece/' said she ; 



4 o TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" and it is so charmingly picturesque that I can almost 
fancy myself to be in that classic land. As I read, the 
blue skies of Greece seem to be over my head, and the 
iEgean Sea to be sparkling in the glorious sunlight \ ,} 

Then followed a question from Artemus, which I 
quote as literally as I can remember it — 

" Pardon me, madame, but do you think that glo- 
rious sunlight in Greece is constitutional — that is to 
say, if early be the dream of youth — whenever they 
are so — -and you know, I presume, that George 
Washington when young never told a lie — that is, 
Greece — in the blue skies, I mean. You understand 
me, of course ?" 

Instead of understanding, the lady appeared to be 
utterly bewildered. At first she seemed to doubt 
whether she had heard distinctly. Then the expres- 
sion of her face indicated that she had a suspicion of 
her not having paid sufficient attention, so as to en- 
able her to comprehend the interrogatory. 

" Do I understand you to say that George Washing- 
ton went to Greece in his youth ?" she asked. " I 
scarcely think that I perfectly understood you/'' 

Artemus Ward maintained his gravity and pro- 
ceeded to explain. 

" I was about to remark," said he, " that so far as 
Greece is concerned, he was more so." 

" More so of what 7" asked the lady, still more 
perplexed. 

" More so with regard to it viewed morally. Be- 
cause the iEgean is a sea — a blue sea, which might 
if not under those circumstances — in parallel in- 
stances — very truthfully though; but before breakfast — 
always before the morning meal. You agree with me, 
I hope V* And Artemus smiled and bowed politely. 



SNAKES IN TEE BOOTS. 41 

The lady closed her book, laid it on the table, and 
raising her spectacles so as to enable her to see 
better, regarded Artemns with amazement. The ladies 
and gentlemen around who had overheard the con- 
versation looked at the speaker with equal astonish- 
ment. Artemus shook his head mournfully, and in a 
deploring tone of voice observed, 

ct Blue Greeks — blue iEgean brigands, dead before 
their breakfast \ u 

"Mercy me !" cried the lady. " The poor fellow 
is out of his mind. Has he no friends with him ? 
He is much to be pitied." 

" It is nothing, madam," replied one of our party ; 
" nothing, I assure you. He usually wanders in this 
way when he has snakes in his boots." 

" Snakes in his boots ! And has he got them now? 
cried the lady, rising quickly, and recoiling from the 
man whom she had just been regarding with tender 
pity. 

" He has, madam. He's apt to see them now and 
then, but " 

An outcry of terror from the sympathetic lady led 
to a scene of confusion, in the midst of which the 
gentlemen passengers made their way to the forepart 
of the saloon, while some of the ladies took refuge in 
their state rooms. 

At that time I was not better informed than the 
lady I have referred to, as to the meaning of the 
phrase, " Snakes in his boots." On inquiry I found 
it to be the western idiom for delirium tremens, and 
it was explained to me as a curious physiological 
fact that the hard drinkers of the south and south- 
western states, are apt to imagine that their boots 
are full of snakes when they themselves are suffering 



43 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

from the mental hallucination produced by excessive 
intemperance. 

The incoherency of speech and strange behaviour 
of my felloAv-passenger had not, of course, resulted 
from any such cause, but was merely a humorous 
freak on his part ; a specimen of a peculiar descrip- 
tion of fun in which he was very fond of indulging 
at a subsequent period of his career. At the time of 
which I am writing he was a stranger to me. Being 
unaccustomed to any such style of joking I was as 
much bewildered with his rambling remarks on the 
Greek brigands, as appeared to be the lady to whom 
he addressed them. 

In later years, during summer months spent at his 
home at Maine, in company with his friend Mr. 
Setchell, it was a great source of amusement for 
him to seek out some of the stolid, half-witted towns- 
folk and befool them in the same manner. Mr. 
Setchell and he would maintain a long conversation 
together in which there would be no coherency, 
nor relevancy of subject between any two sen- 
tences. If by so conversing the agricultural mind 
could be thoroughly confused, and the country 
bumpkin be made to express his opinion that the 
two conversationalists were a pair of crazy idiots, the 
end of the joke was gained, and being gained was 
thoroughly enjoyed. 

Before we arrived at Louisville, the lady who had 
evinced so much enthusiasm about Greece and so 
much astonishment at the conversation of Artemus 
"Ward, was duly informed of the perfect sanity of the 
gentleman with whom she had been talking. I had 
reason to think that she fully accorded her forgiveness 
for having been made a participant in the jest, for I 



A STORMY EVENING. 43 

noticed her conversing very pleasantly with my friend, 
and not manifesting the least uneasiness about the 
proximity of the boots which had been said to be filled 
with unpleasant reptiles. 

The agent for the Theatre of Arts, the captain, the 
two doctors, and myself, sought seats around the stove, 
beguiling the time with anecdote and jest. We did 
not expect to arrive at Louisville till about midnight. 
So inclement had the evening become that none of us 
seemed anxious to leave the warm and comfortable 
saloon of the steamer to encounter darkness, rain 
and wind, .by promenading on the hurricante deck. 
Each of us volunteered to tell a story. The 
stormy evening suggested the topic of most of 
the tales, and by far the best one was told 
by one of the passengers who had hitherto amused 
himself by playing poker. Its excellence consist- 
ing in the gravity with which it was related, and in its 
being illustrative of a quality of humour more keenly 
appreciated by Americans than by Europeans. 

" I used to reside at Appalachicola in Florida," 
said the teller of the tale. "While I was located 
there I kept a little yacht of my own, which I had 
built for me at Portsmouth in New Hampshire. She 
was a sweet beauty of a craft, and I used to go out in 
her considerable ; sometimes taking a trip to Cedar 
Keys and sometimes rounding Cape St. Bias, and 
going to St. Andrews. Down there in the Gulf of 
Mexico we got awful storms. When it thunders the 
heavens are as mad as all wrath, and when it lightens 
the electric fluid is something wonderful to see. The 
little puff of wind and rain we have to-night don't bear 
talking about in comparison. Early in the fall, the 
weather being confoundedly hot and sultry, I took a 



44 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

trip in my yacht round to St. Joseph, and I was on 
my homeward voyage when there came a dead calm. 
I had only two men with me to sail the yacht, and as 
the wind fell and the sky darkened away to the sou' 
west they began to get scared, wishing themselves 
safely round the cape. I knew we were to have a 
thunder-storm, and I reckoned upon our having it 
pretty smart. When it came it was a caution. Such 
thunder, such lightning, and such electricity of the 
heavens I had never seen before. I saw a great 
thunderbolt all one blaze of fire go plump into the 
water like a cannon-ball, and presently as I was 
standing looking on, the lightning struck my yacht 
and almost blinded me. I felt as if I had a flutter-, 
wheel in my head, and I could feel the electric fluid 
running all through me like streams of hot water. My 
men helped me down into the cabin, and there I sate 
for some time, feeling the lightning trickle, trickle, 
trickle through my bones. When I got better and 
could stand up I found my feet quite burdensome to 
me, and my boots swelling out with something which 
felt like warm oil. I got my men to pull them boots 
off for me, and I reckon there was close on to a quart 
of electric fluid in each boot V 

11 How did you know it was electric fluid V 3 asked 
the bar- keeper, who had been listening to the veracious 
story-teller. 

" Know it ? Wall, I reckon there wasn't much 
trouble in knowing it. We poured it into the sea, and 
it lighted up the Gulf of Mexico for miles around." 

While we were laughing at the manner in which 
the narrator of the story confirmed the truth of his 
assertion, the bell rang to warn us that we were in 
sight of Louisville. 



THE GALT HOUSE, LOUISVILLE. 45 



CHAPTER IV. 

LOUISVILLE AMONG PANORAMAS AND 

MINSTRELS. 

KENTUCKY had experienced very little of the 
excitement caused by the war of the Great 
Rebellion at the time when Artemus Ward and I 
chanced to visit Louisville ; but regiment after regi- 
ment was daily passing through the city en route for the 
southern part of the State. Buckner was at Bowling 
Green, and Zollicoffer at Cumberland Gap. Soldiers 
from Indiana, Ohio, and Minnesota, most of them tall, 
gawky, and half-drilled recruits, were assembled in 
groups upon the levee ; and General Buell had just 
superseded Sherman in command of the district. 

The hotel to which we went was the Gait House ; 
the place at which to obtain the best accommodation 
in the city. The charge for board and lodging 
was two dollars and a half a day. Having to do 
with an entertainment about to visit Louisville, I put 
in my claim to the privilege of being treated with 
that amount of leniency with regard to charge always 
accorded to showmen in the United States. Hamlet's 
instructions to see that " the players are well be- 
stowed," is invariably attended to by the hotel clerks 
across the Atlantic. I stated who I was, registered 
my name in the book, and was politely asked 



46 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

to " take a drink." Having come through the wind 
and rain, I accepted the invitation. Late as it was 
in the evening, and though Louisville was then under 
martial law, the bar-room of the Gait House was 
thronged with customers. More than half of them 
were soldiers attired in the blue uniform of the 
Federal army. Most of them were young men, and 
none of them, I presume, had seen anything of the 
stern realities of actual warfare. To them fighting 
seemed to be a matter of no more importance than a 
game of base-ball would be to an American, or a 
cricket-match to an Englishman. They were soldiers 
fresh from home; their gilt adornments bedazzled 
them, and where they might have seen thistles they 
saw but roses ; their swords had been buckled to 
their sides by fair hands, which they had pressed only 
a few days previously ; and the parting words of 
parents, brothers, and sisters still sounded in their 
ears like the echoes of soul-inspiriting music. That 
there could be anything in store for them but victory, 
anything in waiting for them but promotion, laurels, 
another night at the Gait House on their way home, 
and a speedy return to the loved ones they had left, 
scarcely seemed to oppress the minds of any one of 
them. The South was to be crushed at once, and 
they had only to go and crush it. The " star-spangled 
banner" was to be sung in every city of " Secessia/' 
from the Cumberland River to the Florida Reefs, and 
they were to go and sing it. 

The young soldiers were mostly recruits from 
the North Western States ; — fine, stalwart men, 
who had been accustomed to the use of the axe 
in the backwoods, and who felt no more doubt 
about clearing away their enemies on the fields 



AMERICAN SOLDIERS. 47 

of Alabama or Tennessee, than they had of their 
ability to hew down the forests of Michigan or Min- 
nesota. 

They were all colonels, captains, or lieutenants, 
those young men in front of the bar. Nor was it 
derogatory to their ideas of military etiquette to loll 
about, smoke their cigars and drink their whisky to- 
gether in a bar open to all comers. Unacquainted as 
I then was with the military customs of the Western 
World, the free-and-easy manners of these youthful 
officers was matter for surprise and study. 

I was surveying the scene with great interest, 
when there entered the bar-room a gentleman whose 
coming seemed to be regarded by the soldiers with 
unusual satisfaction. He wore a common black coat, 
such as we wear in England for morning dress, and 
a pair of black trousers. On his head was a cocked 
hat, with feathers in it, having on one side a gilt 
shield ornamented with the stars and stripes. He 
was stout in build ; and from his ruddiness of colour 
and other characteristics might have been mistaken 
for an Englishman. 

" Glad to see you, General. Take a drink with 
us ; some very good Bourbon. Hurrah for the old 
flag \" 

The General acknowledged the compliments paid 
him, and "took a drink.''' On inquiry, I found 
that he was General Buell, the new commander of 
the district. That he should accept a glass of whisky 
from his young subordinates appeared to be regarded 
as in no way improper. 

Fighting was near at hand, but festivity was 
the order of the night. To add to the amusements^ 
there came into the bar-room a negro, answering in 



48 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

description to that " tall, broad-shouldered, impudent 
black fellow" whom Addison, in the last volume of 
the Spectator, causes to describe the " Widow-club " 
He carried with him a thick stick, and without being 
at all intoxicated, offered to allow any one present, on 
payment of the small sum of ten cents, to strike him on 
the head with the stick as hard as they might please. 

I was told that he made money for himself and 
his master also by going round the city and sub- 
mitting to be struck on the head by any one who 
would pay first and strike afterwards. That the 
cranium of the negro is thicker and harder than that of 
other men is, I believe, an admitted fact ; but no 
Irishmen at Donnybrook Fair ever enjoyed the touch 
of a shillelah on the top of his head so much as this 
Louisville negro, who seemed to enter into the sport 
of being battered. 

No one in the bar-room being willing to strike 
him, he tried a few hard blows on himself, making 
no feint in the wielding of the weapon ; then 
with a smiling expression, as though he had done 
himself much good, he made a collection amongst 
the audience and spent a part of it in whisky. 
Since that exhibition I have fully comprehended 
the difficulty of educating the negro. 

To prepare the way for an entertainment about to 
take place in Louisville was, as I have stated, the 
purport of my visit. Artemus Ward was then more 
of a " showman" in theory than in practice ; and 
when in the morning I prepared to go out to arrange 
with the music-sellers, call upon the editors, give 
orders to the bill-posters, and confer with the city 
officials, he met me, and we started on the expedition 
together. 



Plate III. 



A PRAIRIE ON FIRE. 





Artemus Ward once had an opportunity of seeing part of a prairie on 
fire. The grandeur of the scene made a deep impression upon him, and 
he frequently afterwards alluded to it in conversation. 



THE FATE OF PANORAMAS. 49 

The first place to visit was the hall in which 
the entertainment was to be given. It was called 
the Masonic Temple. The accommodation was for 
about a thousand people, and the rent seventy- 
five dollars a week including the gas. Like most 
of the halls of the United States, it contained a 
stage and proscenium ; but the latter was of the 
most extraordinary description, resembling an organ 
front of Gothic design, painted very vilely blue. 
Coming out from the hall we noticed a number of 
heavy boxes, and inquired what they were. 

" Panoramas V answered Mr. Matthews, the hall- 
keeper, or " janitor," as they call such an official in 
America. " There's < The Holy Land/ < The Sights 
of Paris/ and ' Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress/ and 
' The Drunkard's Career/ They are all there for 
rent. Panoramas generally get stuck here, and the 
owners go dead broke. You can have 'The Holy 
Land' very cheap if you want to buy it ; but the 
gentleman who owns ( Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress' 
has gone down to Cumberland to trade whisky to the 
army. He'll be back with some chips." 

" And of course he will redeem his panorama ?" I 
suggested, knowing that by " chips" Mr. Matthews 
intended to imply money. Mr. Matthews thought 
he would, adding, thoughtfully, " He has a fancy 
for the picture, and always cried to the school- 
children when he lectured on it. His liking to it, 
I reckon, comes from the face of Christian being 
painted all the way through a portrait of himself. 
That's awful stuff of whisky he's taken down to the 
army — sudden poison, I should think; but I hope he'll 
sell it and clear out his panorama." 

(< A lesson for me never to have a panorama/' re- 

E 



5 o TEE GENIAL 8E0WMAN. 

marked Artemus Ward as we passed out of the hall. 
Three years after that he had one painted for him in 
the city of New York. 

Opposite the Masonic Temple lived Mr. Richard 
Moore, the bill-poster. In the order of business it 
was requisite to call upon him next. We found him 
in a small shop, where he retailed butter, eggs, and 
poultry. As I entered he was engaged selling squir- 
rels to a lady ; not living ones, but squirrels skinned 
ready for cooking. There was a chestful of them in 
the shop. " Them squarrels is cheap at a dollar for 
six," said he, addressing the lady. So I thought, 
reflecting on the sensation Mr. Moore could cause 
in Leadenhall -market by taking over a cargo of 
them. 

I introduced myself, and requested to know how 
many bills of different sizes he could put up for me, 
how soon he would do them, and what contract he 
would make with regard to charge. His answers were 
satisfactory on all the three points of my inquiry, but 
he hesitated as I was about to leave, and in an anxious 
manner said — 

" Did I understand your show to be a panorama ?" 
I replied that it was not, and fully explained its 
characteristics. Mr. Moore's face brightened, as he 
replied — " Them bills shall go out at onst, gentlemen. 
I can see my money. But there's no use my 
leaving my butter business to go fooling after pano- 
ramas. Circus- work is what I like ; but we can't 
expect many more circuses through here now we've 
gone to fightin'. War is against circuses ; thar's the 
evil of it." 

Leaving Mr. Moore to his reflections on the wicked- 
ness of war in general, we proceeded on our way. The 



TAKING OUT A LICENCE. 51 

hall having been arranged for, and the bill-poster 
duly secured, the next thing requiring attention was to 
see the mayor and obtain the licence; for, in the 
United States, every travelling entertainment has 
to take out a separate licence in each town it may 
visit. 

In going to see the mayor, it is as well to put a few 
free admission tickets into your pocket, that you may 
make his worship a present of some of them, and also 
extend a similar invitation to the aldermen. In many 
towns, especially where the aldermen have large fami- 
lies, these free admissions, or " dead-heads," as they 
are called, will obviate the payment of any money 
for the licence. Under any circumstances I believe 
that it is good policy to " dead-head" the mayor, the 
aldermen, and the city- clerk. 

The newspapers of course have their prescriptive 
right to be " dead-headed." Then it is not bad policy 
to " dead-head" the chief clerk at the telegraph-office, 
that he, in return, may " dead-head" any telegram you 
may have to send ; and there is wisdom in " dead- 
heading" the post-master ; for the post-master has boxes 
in which he places the letters of the townsfolk. In those 
boxes he can place the programme of your concert, or 
the circular of your lecture. He can aid you : he has 
a small family, and he talks through the little window 
to the ladies and gentlemen who come to fetch their 
letters. He may chance to talk about you, therefore 
" dead-head" him. 

Relative to the subject of obtaining a licence for an 
entertainment, I remember being in Lancaster, Penn- 
sylvania. My business was to arrange for some 
amusements to take place in Fulton Hall. I sought 
out the bill-poster and accompanied him round the 

E 2 



52 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

town, to see where there were any fitting places for 
the display of bills. He pointed out many, and urged 
the necessity of my giving him the bills at once. I 
told him that they were at the railway station, and 
that he should have them after I had obtained the 
licence. He assured me that the licence was " all 
right/'' and that I need not trouble about it. I 
instanced to him the fact that, at a neighbouring 
town, the giver of a concert had been heavily fined 
some few weeks previously for allowing his concert 
to take place without having first applied for the 
licence. The bill-poster smiled, and assured me 
that I had nothing to fear in Lancaster. He 
went with me to the station. The bills were duly 
handed over to him, to be used for placarding the 
town. 

" Now," said I, " be good enough to show me the 
way to the mayor." 

" I am the mayor \" was his reply. Another illus- 
tration of Lord Houghton's often quoted line, that 

"A man's best things are nearest him." 

There were two newspapers in Louisville — the 
Louisville Journal and the Louisville Democrat. The 
Journal was edited by the celebrated Mr. George D. 
Prentice, an editor whose humorous paragraphs, pithy 
remarks, and trenchant sarcasms long ago won for 
him high renown in the literature of American jour- 
nalism, and who was a celebrity worth travelling into 
Kentucky to see. Unfortunately he was not to be 
seen at the period of my visit. Business therefore 
had to be transacted with Colonel Wallace, the " local 
editor," an obliging, courteous, and shrewd member 
of the press, who listened attentively to the request I 



NEWSPAPER NOTICES. 53 

had to make, readily comprehended the character of 
the entertainment, and undertook to herald it into 
public notice in a manner befitting the Louisville 
Journal. I offered to pay for the insertion of a " puff 
preliminary/'' but the offer was promptly declined. 
The Colonel had no objection to come out, stroll, and 
have a chat ; and accompanied by him we went to the 
Medical College, where prisoners were then confined 
for political offences. On the way we met an ac- 
quaintance who was in a great hurry. " Fm off to 
Paris," said he ; " it's no use hanging about here. I 
was going to California. But quinine is better than 
gold now. If I can* only ship over a cargo of quinine, 
and send it to where I want it to go, Fm a made 
man." We left him hurrying off to Paris, and the 
Colonel explained to us that quinine " down South" 
was in great request, and likely to be still more 
scarce. He had some Memphis and Nashville papers 
in his pocket. Taking them out, he pointed to the 
number of advertisements relative to the drug which 
our street-acquaintance was going over to Paris to 
import. 

Later in the day I called at the Democrat office, 
and offered five dollars for a puff which I wished to 
be inserted. Messrs. Hughes and Harney not only 
accepted it, but volunteered to treat me with whisky 
in return for my fair dealing. As a rule, out West, I 
always found the democratic editors to be better 
patrons of whisky than the republican ones. There 
is a vein of whisky running through Western de- 
mocracy, as characteristic of the genial democrat 
as the " blue blood" is of the Vere de Veres of aris- 
tocracy. 

We dined at the Gait House, partaking of a very 



54 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

excellent dinner, and meeting many officers of the 
Union army who afterwards won distinction on the 
field of battle. Judging from the conversation, 
the ladies were more warlike in their disposition 
than the men; but those nearest me at the table 
were more strongly in favour of the Secessionists 
than of the Federalists. As an indication of their 
political feeling they wore the colours of the South in 
ribbons around the neck, just as they flaunted them 
in the streets by means of dyed feathers stuck in their 
little jaunty hats. For personal beauty the ladies of 
Louisville are deserving of especial notice. The Ken- 
tucky belle has a freshness of colour and a roundness 
of form not so general among her fair sisters in other 
States of the Union. These characteristics are the 
result, I believe, of much out-door exercise. To be 
able to ride, and even to shoot, are not unusual ac- 
complishments of a Kentuckian fair one. A young 
lady of the same age in Massachusetts would prefer 
to be able to read Virgil, and to stand an examination 
in physiological anatomy. 

Louisville is not a city of any great architectural 
pretensions, nor has it the business life and " go" in 
it which characterize most of the large cities of the 
West. It is built on the Ohio, and is frequently de- 
signated " the Falls City," on account of the falls of 
the river being about two miles down the stream. I 
strolled to the levee to look at the steamboats, ranged 
in a row, the greater number of which were said to 
be taken up by the Government for the conveyance of 
troops. There were the Argonaut and the Shenango 
for Pittsburgh, the Trio and the W. W. Crawford for 
Henderson, the Dove for the Kentucky River, and the 
Sir William Wallace for I know not where; but the 



SIB WILLIAM WALLACE IN KENTUCKY. 55 

name of the great Scotchman who gained the victory 
at Cambuskenneth and lost the field at Falkirk, painted 
on a steamboat floating on the muddy waters of the 
Ohio, seemed to be a little out of place. To a 
Scotchman's mind it might possibly have been some 
slight compensation for the murder which the first 
Edward wrought. Doubtless the boat was owned by 
an Americanized Scotchman. 

Nationalities were plenteously represented in Louis- 
ville. Names of Scotch and Irish extraction figured 
over the whisky-shops, and Jew clothiers were 
numerous in the long row of buildings which looked 
down upon the levee. And a wild, dirty, bleak, 
windy, unattractive place that levee is — a steep bank 
sloping down to the edge of the river, with winding 
paths traced out on it for the carts to load and un- 
load the steamers. On the opposite bank of the 
stream, looking as forlorn and as melancholy as it is 
possible for a town to look, is Jeffersonville in 
Indiana. All the towns in Indiana are dreary, but 
Jeffersonville, I think, would be likely to win the 
prize in a contest for the honour of dreariness. It 
belongs to that State in which Artemus Ward 
describes his celebrated town of Baldinsville, — a State 
wherein every place has more or less of a bald, grace- 
less, raw-boned, and unadorned appearance — where, in 
every town, the streets are purposely made wide that 
the sun may have every chance of warming you in 
the broiling summer, and the wind lose no opportunity 
for sweeping along in one huge ferocious blast during 
the cold days of winter. Yet Jeffersonville is a town 
of some importance. It contains the railway station, 
where you take the train for Indianapolis, and the 
Penitentiary, in which many of the wild spirits of 



56 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Indiana enjoy the sweets of repose and chew the end 
of reflection. 

A stroll along the chilly banks of the Ohio late 
in the afternoon was a good stimnlant for a visit 
to the cosy little Louisville theatre in the evening. 
The lessee of the theatre was Mrs. Mary Lorton, 
and the manager Captain Fuller. There was a 
touch of the brigand in the captain's appearance, 
something which called to my mind Fra Diavolo, 
Schinderhannes, Zamiel, the late O. Smith, and the 
deep-voiced heroes of the Surrey theatre. He wore 
a large cloak and a broad-brimmed felt hat ; and 
as my friends and I approached him, his arms were 
folded under his ample cloak, as if in the act of 
clutching a dagger. His reception of us was most 
courteous. Beneath the guise of a brigand we found 
the manners of an Alfred Jingle, with the hospitality 
of a Mr. Wardle, and the warm-heartedness of a Mr. 
Pickwick. The interior of the house was a little 
dingy, but very comfortably arranged. A " star" was 
in possession of the stage, and that star was Mr. 
Neafie, a tragedian well known to American playgoers. 
Had he not been playing the character of " Meta- 
mora" we might have stayed longer to witness the 
performance ; but the play of Met amor a itself is one 
of those wondrous dramas so well characterized by a 
Western critic — " One in which the unities are ad- 
mirably observed : the dulness which commences with 
the first act never flagging for a moment until the 
curtain falls/'' 

Far more interesting than the tragedy to Artemus 
"Ward was a chat in the theatre with a friend of the 
famous Mr. Rice who introduced " Jim Crow" to the 
English public at the Adelphi theatre in 1836, and 



« JUMP JIM CROW." 57 

who had but recently died in New York. The 
" burnt-cork profession/' as that of negro minstrelsy- 
is frequently termed in the United States, was one 
towards the members of which Artemus Ward had a 
special attachment. Their peculiar mode of life and 
singularities of habit rendered them favourite subjects 
of study to one who delighted in absurd, grotesque, 
and out-of-the-way developments of character. Rice 
and " Jim Crow" were therefore more enjoyable topics 
than " Metamora" and his Indian friends. We ad- 
journed to where we could talk without disturbing 
others, and there it was that I found myself to be a pil- 
grim at the shrine of the birthplace of " Jim Crow." 

" Yes, sir-ree," said our informant, " it was in this 
city of Louisville, in 1829, that Daddy Rice first 
jumped Jim Crow. Whar's all your minstrels spring 
from but here ? Whar's all the beautiful melodies of 
every minstrel band going take their start from but 
from old Kentucky ? I helped to black Daddy Rice's 
face the first night he sang; and if thar had been no 
Daddy Rice whar would have been your Bryants and 
your Christys, and your Moores, and your Eph 
Horns, and your Morrises, and your Pells ? Whar ? 
— why, just no-whar. Yes, sir-ree ! that's whar." 

" I thought that Nicholls was the first man 
to sing Jim Crow ?" remarked Artemus, inquiringly. 

" As a clown, he was. Yes, sir-ree. Thar you are 
right. It was in Purdy Brown's Circus, too. But he 
blacked his face after Daddy Rice did his, and then he 
sang ' Clar de Kitchen.' I can hear Daddy Rice at 
it now — 

1 First on de heel tap, den on de toe, 
Every time I wheel about I jump Jim Crow.' 

Thar was singing. Thar was something to listen to. 



58 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Whar is it nowadays ? Thar's more on the stage to show 
off the art of the thing, but the art is nowhar. You 
can't see it. That's what's the matter. Yes, sir-ree !" 

"We have some very good black artists now/' 
responded Artemus Ward. " Good, noble, whole-souled 

lovers of their art, who love it for the dollars and 

the whisky." 

" Thar you are right again," chimed in our infor- 
mant. " It's whisky in their souls that half of them 
have got. But Daddy Rice warn't upon that lay. He 
made Jim Crow as great a piece of acting in his way 
as Forrest makes anything in Shakspeare. Yes, sir-ree." 

I had seen enough of that curious race of per- 
formers, the black-minstrels, in America and in other 
parts of the world, to wish to know a little more 
about their origin and history. Fortunately a gentle- 
man happened to be present who appeared to be better 
informed on the subject than any one else. Waiting 
till the eulogist of Daddy Rice had departed, he 
favoured us with a few facts, of which I made notes 
at the time. It may interest some of my readers to 
know that the first white man who publicly sang a 
song with his face blackened was a personage known 
as Pot Pie Herbert. His song was entitled " The 
Battle of Plattsburg," and was sung by him on the 
stage of the theatre at Albany, in the State of New 
l r ork, shortly after the little victory gained by the 
Americans over the British on Lake Champlain. So 
successful was Pot Pie Herbert with this song that he 
was engaged to sing it at the Park Theatre, New York, 
then- the fashionable theatre of that city. His career 
would have been more brilliant had it not been for 
his having the fatal habit, to use an expression of 
poor Ward's, of " concealing too much whisky about 



NIGGER MINSTRELSY. 59 

his person/ - ' Long afterwards, Mr. Keller, a low 
comedian, blackened his face, and sang " The Coal 
Black Rose ;" while a Mr. Barney Burns, with similar 
facial adornment, treated his audiences to the en- 
livening melody of " Sich a Gitting Up Stairs." But 
not until 1842 did a company of u Nigger Minstrels" 
appear in combination before the public. 

For the information of any one who feels an interest 
in the history of amusements, and who has wondered at 
the origin of the idea of a group of men singing songs 
in the character of negroes, at a popular hall in London, 
or less artistic performers of the same class executing 
grotesque vagaries on the sands at Ramsgate, it may 
not be out of place to mention that the original troupe 
started as a quartet party. They made their first 
appearance at the Chatham- street Theatre, in New 
York, calling themselves " The Virginia Minstrels." 
Their names were Richard Ward Pelham, Daniel 
Decatur Emmett, William Whittock, and Francis 
Marion Brower. The first song they sung was the 
still popular melody of " The Boatman's Dance." 

When Macaulay's New Zealander shall disinter a 
fossil banjo from among the ruins of Piccadilly, these 
facts may have interest for the editor of Notes and 
Queries in the world's metropolis of the Feejee Islands. 

The discussion on the origin of negro minstrelsy 
being brought to a close, Artemus Ward and I strolled 
through the streets of Louisville at night. Our con- 
versation related chiefly to the various forms of amuse- 
ments, and the eccentricities of those who make 
it their business to amuse. Many were the odd 
stories about minstrels and circus-men told me by my 
companion in the course of our desultory ramble. 

During his engagements as reporter and editor 



60 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of the Toledo Commercial and the Cleveland Plain- 
dealer, Ar tennis Ward had met with most of the 
travelling showmen of celebrity, and become intimately 
acquainted with their history. He knew their good 
points, their shortcomings, their peculiarities of 
character and their eccentricities. The social life of 
the showman had been to him a special subject for 
study. He knew the showman at home as well as 
abroad — knew him in his show and in his chamber, 
knew him in his unconventionalities of thought and 
understood him in his views of society, as well as 
in the under-current of feeling resulting from early 
experiences. Droll anecdotes and shrewd remarks 
followed one another rapidly, until we found our- 
selves at the hotel, parting company on the stairs. 
Then, after a few moments of silence and reflection, 
my friend said — 

" I understand that you are used to the manage- 
ment of shows. Suppose one day you manage me V 

I replied that the proposal was one which I felt 
very well disposed to consider favourably, but ex- 
pressed a wish to know in what character I was likely 
to have the opportunity of managing him, and how he 
intended to constitute himself " a show." He replied 
with mock gravity — 

" A moral lecturer. There's nothing else to be 
made of me but that. And you must take me to 
England and Australia." 

We bade each other " Good night !" and parted 
laughingly. The next morning I left by the train for St. 
Louis. Thence I started on a journey of many months' 
duration through the north-western States of America. 
Artemus Ward and I did not meet again till nearly a 
year and a half had passed away. Then, when we 



WE PART AT LOUISVILLE. 61 

met, I listened to Artemus as he lectured to an 
audience of nearly two thousand people; and, while the 
laughter and applause resounded on every side, there 
came to my memory the night of our parting in 
Louisville. The " moral lecturer" was before me. 
Were we ever to go to England and Australia together ? 

The question was left for Time to answer. In a 
very few years came the full reply. We were destined 
to be associated in California among the gold-miners, 
and in Salt Lake among the Mormons. We were to 
travel the United States, and be friends in London; but 
never to visit Australia, nor after leaving American 
ground were we to meet upon it again any more. 

In this chapter and those which precede it the 
reader has been made acquainted with the circum- 
stances that led to my first personal knowledge of 
Artemus Ward. By the help of note-books I have 
endeavoured to recount faithfully the incidents of our 
first meeting, and to depict the scenes amongst which 
we met. Before I proceed with the narrative of our 
acquaintance, and previous to detailing any further 
reminiscences of show-life in the Western World, it may 
be proper perhaps that I should devote a few pages 
to the early history of him the story of whose 
life I have undertaken to tell. Let me premise 
that the few facts I have to relate about the youth 
of " the Showman" are mainly gathered from his state- 
ments to me during the period of our intimacy. Rela- 
tive to his own affairs he was always reticent, and 
when interrogated about his early career, seemed to re- 
gard the subject as a farce, worthy only of being treated 
with laughter ; or, rather as a transient jest, which had 
served its purpose and merited nothing more than to be 
laid aside, unthought of and never to be recalled. 



62 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 



CHAPTER V. 

MAINE THE HOME OF THE HUMORIST. 

CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE, whose nom de 
plume was " Artenms Ward/' was born at the 
upper village of Waterford, Oxford County, Maine, on 
the twenty-sixth of April, 1834. His father, Mr. 
Levi Browne, was a land surveyor and rural justice 
of the peace. His mother, Caroline E. Browne, still 
lives, and is a hale active lady of advanced years, 
who has survived the loss of husband and children, 
and whose physical strength still enables her to take 
long journeys in the summer weather, when she leaves 
her secluded home in Maine and travels to see the 
busy world as represented in the pleasant city of Port- 
land, or in the thronged and noisy streets of charming 
old Boston. 

The family of the Brownes dates back to the days 
of the Puritans, and has been long resident in the 
State of Maine. There appears to be an uncertainty 
in the family as to the correct orthography of the 
patronymic. In signing his proper name Charles 
Browne used a final " g." I have before me letters re- 
ceived from him in America and the visiting card 
which he used in London. The name in each instance 
is spelt " Browne." But I also have letters written by 



THE SHOWMAN'S ANCESTRY. 63 

his mother in which the final " e " is omitted from the 
signature. Noticing this variation of spelling, I once 
took occasion to question Artemus Ward on the 
subject. His reply was to the effect that he believed 
the final vowel was always used by his ancestors, but 
that his father at one period of his life omitted it in 
his signature, and that some of his relations retained 
it, whilst others dispensed with it as being superfluous. 
I was anxious to know if he possessed any information 
relative to the English county whence the family 
originated in pre-Puritanic times. He replied jocosely, 

" I should think we came from Jerusalem, for my 
father's name was Levi, and we had a Nathan and a 
Moses in the family. But my poor brother's name 
was Cyrus, so perhaps that makes us Persians/' 

Maine is the Scotland of the United States ; it is the 

" Land of the mountain and the flood," 

the land of the pine-forest and the moose-deer — of the 
lonely lake and the narrow glen — of the cloud-kissing 
hill and the torrent leaping in madness from crag to 
crag. It is the most northern as well as the most 
eastern of the States of the American Union. The 
uncleared lands of Canada, and the secluded glories 
of the lower St. Lawrence limit it on the north- 
west ; the forest solitudes of New Brunswick, and 
the fierce waves of the Atlantic, are its boundaries on 
the east; while on the south-west the snow-capped 
White Mountains of New Hampshire guard it like 
grim sentinels, jealous of its wealth of scenic 
grandeur; for in Maine there are lakes fifty miles 
in extent, and mountains five thousand feet high. 
Historic associations are all that Maine requires to 
render it as much the favourite resort of the tourist 



64 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

in search of the picturesque as it is now the chosen 
ground of the hardy hunter, and the adventurous 
sportsman. Its climate is cold, bleak, and invigorating 
— a climate where the summer is brief, but glorious, and 
the winter lengthy, but thoroughly enjoyable — a blue 
sky overhead ; hard, shining, sparkling snow covering 
the ground, the wind making music among the pines, 
and the sleigh-bells tinkling as the sleighs glide swiftly 
over the frosty plain. " Caledonia, stern and wild/' 
may be as Scott expresses it, " meet nurse" for a poet ; 
but the wild magnificence of rock-bound, icy, dark- 
forested Maine, would hardly seem to be the fitting 
cradle for a humorist who evinced very little appre- 
ciation of the beautiful or grand in natural scenery, 
but cared infinitely more to notice, to study, and to 
enjoy the comic side of conventional city life. 

A traveller arriving at Quebec after having made a 
tour through the Canadas and being about to visit 
the United States, would be most likely to avail him- 
self of the facilities offered by the Grand Trunk line. 
He would take the train at the terminus on the 
St. Lawrence, opposite Quebec, travel through the 
forest wilds of Canada down to Richmond, and on 
through Sherbrooke, till crossing the boundary line of 
the States, he would enter Vermont, and come to 
a stop at the romantic station of Island Ponds. 
Arriving there late, he would most probably stay a 
few hours and sleep at the hotel specially intended 
for his halting-place. Rising very early in the 
morning, and waiting for the engine to get up 
steam, he would have time to notice the solitary 
beauty of the locality, the gloomy grandeur of the 
woods around, and the placid brightness of the 
miniature lakes, whence the station obtains its name 



PARIS IN TEE BACKWOODS. 65 

of Island Ponds. The clearness of the morning, the 
sharpness of the air, and the grateful fragrance of the 
pine forest, would most likely tempt him to indulge 
in some breakfast before taking the train for Portland. 
He would do well to let that breakfast be substan- 
tial, and never mind being told that Paris is near, 
and that he can breakfast there. It is just possible 
that the name of the place might suggest ideas of 
luxurious cafes, looking out upon gay boulevards, — 
of breakfasts with the most tempting of viands, and 
the most unexceptionable wines. "Would the traveller 
know the difference between Paris and Paris ? He 
has only to wait. After being whirled through the 
forests, and hurried through the mountain gorges, 
over streams roaring amidst the rocks, and "foaming 
brown with doubled speed," as they rush through 
their channels of grey granite ; he would catch a 
distant glimpse of the Androscoggin river to his left, 
and see peaks of the White Mountains glittering far 
off to his right. If he became very hungry, he 
might glance at the back of the little card-check the 
conductor had given him, count how many miles there 
were yet to be travelled before arriving at the refresh- 
ment station, and having entered the State of Maine, 
would suddenly come to a halt, be told that he 
had arrived at South Paris, and that he might refresh 
to his heart's content. Probably he would find — as 
the writer did, when very hungry — that some squash 
tarts — " pies " they call them in the States — some cold 
pork and beans, and some wretchedly poor coffee, 
would comprise the whole menu of the railway 
restaurant at South Paris. But if more fortunate, 
able to obtain a good repast, and disinclined to 
travel on to Portland by that train ; and if, being an 



66 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

admirer of the writings of Artemus "Ward, he felt 
inclined to pay a visit to the birthplace of Charles 
Farrar Browne, he might make inquiry and learn 
that the village of Waterford was only a few miles 
off, amidst some charming scenery, wherein the rougher 
aspects of nature are commingled with the rustic 
characteristics of a " down-eastern" agricultural 
-district. 

Oxford County, in which the upper and lower 
village of Waterford is situated, forms a part of the 
south-west angle of the State of Maine. More to the 
north the industrial pursuits of the inhabitants of the 
State are chiefly directed to the lumber trade — that is, 
to felling the fir-trees, floating them down the rivers, and 
converting them into timber. But in Oxford County 
agriculture can be made a more remunerative source 
of profit, while the excellent pasturage opens-up 
another avenue for the hardy inhabitants to derive 
wealth from the soil, There is an extensive culture 
of Indian corn and potatoes, and the trade in 
wool is very considerable. The country is well watered 
by the Androscoggin river and two smaller streams, 
the Margallaway and the Saco. It contains also 
some small lakes, yielding plenteous sport to the 
angler. Paris is the chief town of the county ; but 
the nearest city of any size is the very beautiful one 
of Augusta, about forty miles distant, the capital of 
the State of Maine, and the seat of learning for that 
part of the country. Portland, the chief commercial 
city of the State, is many miles away to the south- 
east. It is one of the most handsome cities in 
the Union, and makes a pleasing impression 
on the European tourist who chances to see it in 
summer ; so beautiful is its position on the shores of a 



i 



THE SHOWMAN'S VILLAGE. 67 

lovely bay ; so shady are its streets, with their stately 
rows of trees ; and so clean, bright, and well-con- 
structed are its buildings. 

The people of Maine are a hard-working, strong, 
and adventurous race, the ladies being especially 
notable for their beauty of form and freshness of 
colour. As the State in which the celebrated Liquor 
Law originated, and the home of Neal Dow, the 
traveller is prepared to meet with a very temperate 
community. In passing through Portland he will see 
a notice over one of the doors of the old Town-hall, if 
it be still standing, that strong liquor can be obtained 
there on production of a medical certificate; but do 
not let him run away with the notion that it cannot 
be obtained anywhere else, nor without medical per- 
mission. The hotels have each a bar downstairs in 
the cellar, and there are quiet whisky shops all over 
the city. But there is none of the open and even 
obtrusive allurements of the bar-room noticeable in 
cities further south. The men of Maine are men of 
clear head, sinewy frame, large bone, and iron muscle ; 
men who formed the sturdiest among the pioneers of 
California, and the hardiest of soldiers in the great 
American war. Poor Artemus Ward, with his thin, 
spare form and delicate organization, was by no means 
a representative man with regard to the physical qua- 
lifications of his countrymen. 

If the reader will turn to one of the humorous 
papers of Artemus Ward, entitled " Affairs Round the 
Village Green/' he will meet with a description of the 
birthplace of the author, as pleasantly joked about by 
himself. The " village green" is his own native village 
of Waterford. " The village from which I write to 
you is small," to quote from the paper to which 

f % 



68 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

reference has just been made. " It does not contain 
over forty houses all told ; but they are milk-white, 
with the greenest of blinds, and for the most part are 
shaded with beautiful elms and willows. To the right 
of us is a mountain — to the left a lake. The village 
nestles between. Of course it does. I never read a 
novel in my life in which the villages didn't nestle. 
Villages invariably nestle. It is a kind of way 
they have. - " To this village, in the hot days of 
the American summer, Artemus Ward was always 
glad to retire, that he might rest during warm 
weather in the home of his youth. A humble 
home, but a very comfortable, cosy little farm. A 
homestead which he loved with the fondness of one 
who was intense in his affections. At the death of his 
father that little home was not secured to the family. 
To secure it for his mother was the ambition of his 
youth ; and one of the first uses he made of the money 
derived from his writings and his lectures, was to see 
his mother safely housed for life in what he used to 
refer to endearingly as " the old homestead." To 
escape from the enervating influences of New York or 
any of the large cities, and to retreat to that " old 
homestead" down in Maine, was his panacea for all 
the ills that might overtake him, for there he found 
the recruiting ground where health came back to him 
in the air he had breathed in his boyhood, and where, 
loitering through the long summer days, he would be- 
come re-invigorated and ready for his winter campaign. 
He who has been imprisoned in the streets of 
London for ten or twelve months, and then has the 
opportunity of rushing off to the Highlands or becom- 
ing a Cook's excursionist to Switzerland, can appreciate 
the luxury of a month in Maine, after spending three 



TEE VILLAGE GREEN. 6 9 

parts of the summer in noisy New York, monumental 
Baltimore, or prim Philadelphia. 

How much the poor humorist appreciated the de- 
lights of that rural home " away down in Maine" — 
how proudly he remembered that it was his home, 
and how keenly he enjoyed the pleasure of returning 
to it when opportunity offered — may be estimated 
from the opening paragraph of the paper from which 
I have already quoted. Artemus is exultant when he 
writes — 

" It isn't every one who has a village green to 
write about. I have one, although I have not seen 
much of it for some years past. I am back again, 
now. In the language of the duke who went about 
with a motto e I am here V and I fancy I am about as 
happy a peasant of the vale as ever garnished a melo- 
drama, although I have not as yet danced on my village- 
green, as the melodramatic peasant usually does on 
his. . . . Why stay in New York when I had a village 
green? I gave it up, the same as I would an intri- 
cate conundrum — and, in short, I am here. Do I miss 
the glare and crash of the imperial thoroughfare ? the 
milkman, the fiery, untamed omnibus horses, the soda- 
water fountains, Central Park, and those things ? Yes, 
I do, and can go on missing them for quite a spell, 
and enjoy it." 

And most thorough was that enjoyment, espe- 
cially when he could induce some old friend or 
companion of his boyhood to accompany him to his 
eastern home and spend a few days or weeks with 
him among its simple-minded inhabitants. 

" The villagers are kindly people," he writes ; 
and then sarcastically adds, " they are rather in- 
coherent on the subject of the war, but not more so, 



70 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

perhaps, than are people elsewhere. One citizen who 
used to sustain a good character subscribed for the 
Weekly New York Herald a few months since, and 
went to studying the military maps in that well-known 
journal for the fireside. I need not inform you that 
his intellect now totters, and he has mortgaged his 
farm." 

To stroll around among these " kindly people/'' to 
chat with the villagers, storekeepers, and mechanics, 
to converse with the farmers about the produce of their 
farms and to discuss with the owners of horse-stock the 
value of horses, to joke with the more astute of his 
old schoolfellows, and to test the crass density of in- 
tellect among the country clowns by propounding 
to them political and social conundrums, to guess 
which they were simply incapable, were the favourite 
modes of dissipating the dulness of rural life which 
Artemus Ward adopted. He wrote very little during 
these summer recesses. Most of his humorous papers 
were written in the great cities and under the stimulus 
of literary society. When at home, among the hills 
of Maine, he preferred the company of jovial com- 
panions, and was especially fond of that of Mr. 
Setchell. 

To the possession of great talents as a low 
comedian, Mr. Setchell added the qualifications of one 
whose flow of animal spirits was almost inexhaustible, 
and whose jocose vein of humour was in admirable 
harmony with that of his friend. Artemus Ward and 
Mr. Setchell would ramble out together on a summer 
evening, fall into the company of any visitors to the 
village who were not well aware of their manner of 
seeking amusement, and commence a conversation on 
some singular topic, which they would carry on in a 



TEE SHOWMAN AT HOME. 71 

seemingly irrational manner after the style of the 
chat about the brigands with the lady on the Louis- 
ville steamer, as related in a previous chapter. To 
mystify and thoroughly muddle the intellect of Bceotia 
was the point of the joke, and to be looked upon as a 
pair of lunatics just escaped from the State Lunatic 
Asylum was fully to succeed in their waggery. But 
poor Setchell said many good things in his time, and 
was original in his facetiousness. He was the very 
man for a host who could appreciate humour to select 
for his guest, especially as the guest had that constant 
vivacity which frequently accompanies redundancy 
of health, while the host was occasionally moody 
through the presence of physical weakness. It was 
the misfortune of Artemus Ward to lose by death 
most of his youthful jovial companions. Amongst 
that number was Mr. Setchell. He sailed from San 
Francisco in a ship bound for Australia. I believe 
that neither he, nor the ship was ever heard of again. 
From that which I have stated relative to the "village 
green/' the reader must not suppose Artemus Ward 
to have spent the whole of his time when at home in 
the country in making merry with the villagers and 
jesting with the playful spirits whom he might invite 
to visit him. Though he wrote but little, he read 
much in a desultory manner, and was careful to keep 
himself well informed on the political condition of his 
country, as well as very fairly acquainted with the 
current light literature of the day. He took great 
interest in the education of the young, was especially 
fond of the society of children, and delighted in making 
happy the juvenile portion of the community of " the 
village green/' With the fair sex he was always 
a favourite ; " I like little girls — I like big girls 



72 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

too/' as lie used to remark in one of his lectures. 
But to question children, to ascertain their little 
wants, study their quaint fancies and sport with 
them in the moments of his leisure, was as much 
a characteristic habit of his earlier years as it was 
of the last days of his life, when he bequeathed his 
library to the best boy in his native village. 

Waterford, like every other place large or small in 
America, has its " store," at which articles of the 
most heterogeneous description may always be found 
on sale. 

" The store — I must not forget the store/" writes 
Artemus. " It is an object of great interest to me. 
In it may constantly be found calico, and nails, and 
fish, and tobacco in kegs, and snuff in bladders. It 
is a venerable establishment. As long ago as 1814 it 
was an institution. The country troops, on their way 
to the defence of Portland, then menaced by British 
ships of war, were drawn up in front of this very store 
and treated at the town's expense/'' Referring to the 
customers who frequent the store, the writer con- 
tinues — " I usually encounter there on sunny after- 
noons an old Revolutionary soldier. You may possibly 
have read about i Another Revolutionary Soldier 
gone / but this is one who hasn't gone, and moreover 
one who doesn't manifest the slightest intention of 
going. He distinctly remembers Washington, of 
course. They all do. But what I wish to call 
special attention to is the fact that this Revolutionary 
soldier is one hundred years old, that his eyes are so 
good that he can read fine print without spectacles — he 
never used them, by the way — and his mind is per- 
fectly clear. He is a little shaky in one of his legs ; 
but otherwise he is as active as most men of forty- five, 



PICTURES OF MAINE. 73 

and his general health is excellent. He uses no 
tobacco ; but for the last twenty years he has drunk one 
glass of liquor every day — no more, no less. He says 
he must have his ' tod/ But because a man can drink 
a glass of liquor a day and live to be a hundred years 
old, my young readers must not infer that by drink- 
ing two glasses of liquor a day a man can live to be 
two hundred. " 

However, the Revolutionary soldier is an apt 
illustration of the healthfulness of the district, while 
the daily habit in which he indulges exemplifies one 
of the uses of " a store" even in the antibibulous 
State of Maine. 

Endeared as it was by youthful recollections, the 
old " store" was not the only place near home which 
Artemus Ward loved to visit. Nowhere in his 
writings does he more pleasantly betray the gentle 
spirit and kindly nature which underlay all his 
rollicking frivolity and all his sarcastic matter-of-fact, 
than where he describes a house in the neighbourhood 
of " the village green" which he was in the habit of 
going to occasionally. Thus he pictures it, and thus 
he permits the reader to know more of his feelings and 
his inner self than he at all times cared to dis- 
play— 

" Sometimes I go a-visiting to a farmhouse, on which 
occasions the parlour is opened. The windows have 
been close shut ever since the last visitor was there, 
and there is a dingy smell that I struggle as calmly as 
possible with, until I am led to the banquet of steam- 
ing hot biscuit and custard pie. If they would only 
let me sit in. the dear old-fashioned kitchen, or on the 
door-stone — if they knew how dismally the new black 
furniture looked — but never mind. I am not a re- 



74 



THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



former. No, I should rather think not. Gloomy 
enough this living on a farm, yon perhaps say ; in which 
case you are wrong. I can't exactly say that I pant 
to be an agriculturist ; but I do know that in the main 
it is an independent, calmly happy sort of life. I can 
see how the prosperous farmer can go joyously a-field 
with the rise of the sun, and how his heart may swell 
with pride over bounteous harvests and sleek oxen. 
And it must be rather jolly for him on winter even- 
ings to sit before the bright kitchen fire, and watch 
his rosy boys and girls as they study at the charades 
in the weekly paper, and gradually find out why my 
first is something that grows in a garden and why my 
second is a fish." 

Chatting with me one day relative to the people 
amongst whom his boyhood had been spent, Artemus 
thus characterized them — 

( ' They are very rough, but they are a lot of good 
old souls. They don't understand me. Some of them — 
bless their kind hearts ! — think I ought to be sent to 
the State prison for having changed my name. Most 
of them pity me for a poor idiot. Some of them want 
to make me good. They would give up all their time 
in trying to make me so, and be self-forgetful enough 
to let themselves run to the bad. They'd howl for the 
old flag, and never buy a bit of new bunting to mend 
it with when it got to tatters." 

The father of Charles Farrar Browne died while his 
sons were very young. He was a shrewd man, with 
much geniality of disposition and some amount of 
humour. Though in comfortable circumstances, he 
was not in a position to acquire much, wealth, and 
could leave no fortune to his children. Charles was 
educated at the high-school, where he learned the rudi- 



CHILDHOOD OF THE SHOWMAN. 75 

ments of knowledge. He was taught English grammar, 
arithmetic, recitation, the facts of American history, 
and the elements of physiology. He smiled when he 
informed me of the tuition he had received in this last 
branch of learning. According to his own account 
and the testimony of those whom I have interrogated 
on the subject, he was an apt pupil , without any power 
of application — one who was reputed to be able to 
learn well if he would but apply himself, but who very 
much disliked the trammels with which study too 
often vainly tries to hold the student. A hatred 
of routine and a lack of method were characteristics of 
the man, as they had been of the boy ; and no one 
more than himself in later years deplored this. 

I called upon him one day in London, just after 
he had had an interview with Mr. Mark Lemon. 
He appeared to be more than usually grave, and 
on asking him the reason for his apparent depression 
he replied, 

" Mr. Lemon tells me that I want discipline. I 
know I want discipline. I always did want it, and I 
always shall." Then, in a serio-comic mood, he 
added — "Can you get me a stock of discipline, old 
fellow ? You have more of it over here than we have 
in the States. I should like some/" Referring to 
the extent of his early learning, he told one of his 
friends that when he left school he had " about 
enough education for a signboard." And when he 
gave instructions for the drawing up of his will, he 
directed that his page George should be sent to a 
printing-office first, and afterwards to college, remark- 
ing at the time, " In the printing-office he will find 
the value of education, and want to learn when he gets 
the chance. I lost the chance before I felt the want." 



76 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

While at school, declamation was that part of 
the curriculum of duties which the boy Charles 
Browne liked the best. In the education of American 
youth elocution is made more a matter of study 
than it usually is in England. Every school-girl is 
taught to recite Tennyson's " May Queen/'' and there 
are few youths who have not declaimed to their brother 
scholars some of the glowiug periods of Daniel Webster, 
or selections from the stately versification of William 
Cullen Bryant. I am told that Charles Browne pre- 
ferred Shakspeare to either Webster or Bryant, and 
that Richard the Third was a play which appealed the 
most forcibly to his youthful fancy. 

Waterford and its neighbourhood were visited 
occasionally by travelling shows. In the summer one 
or two circus companies were pretty certain to wander 
that way ; and a circus was something better even than 
Shakspeare. Artemus Ward in his maturer years 
seemed to regard a circus as being a greater source of 
amusement than a theatre. He knew all the circus 
clowns in America, had all their jokes by heart, and was 
frequently sought after by them to provide them with a 
few new jests. When a boy, he constructed a circus in 
his father's barn. A schoolfellow acted as ring-master, 
while Artemus would play the part of clown, dressing 
himself up for the occasion with coloured pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs. He made sundry attempts at private theatri- 
cals. According to his own confession, he never 
acquitted himself very successfully in any of the 
principal characters of the drama. He told me that he 
once tried to play Romeo, but forgot the words, and 
had to ask Juliet in front of the audience to hand him 
the book from her bosom, that he might read that 
which he had to say to her. His brother Cyrus gave me 



LEARNING TO PRINT. 77 

a much more favourable account of the histrionic ability 
of Artemus, and ventured an opinion that he would 
have made a good comedian. 

Cyrus Browne died a few years before his younger 
brother Charles. I last saw him in Portland, looking 
very worn and haggard. He was then anxious for 
information relative to the British North American 
provinces, and meditated a trip through them with 
his brother, but scarcely seemed to have health 
enough for so long a journey. Cyrus was a man of 
considerable talent; more reserved and more metho- 
dical than Charles. I believe that he was connected 
with newspaper literature during the greater part of his 
life, and that he was at one period on the editorial 
staff of the New Bedford Standard, at New Bedford in 
Massachusetts. 

Family circumstances induced the parents of Charles 
Browne to take him from school when quite a boy, 
before he had the opportunity of proceeding to the 
higher branches of study. The occupation selected 
for him was that of a printer. He was sent to 
learn the rudiments of the craft at a small newspaper 
office in the little town of Skowhegan, some miles to 
the north of his native village. To the last days of 
his career he had a bitter remembrance of his first 
experiences in a printing-office. He was accustomed 
to set up a howl of derision whenever the name of 
Skowhegan was mentioned. He seemed to be gratify- 
ing a long-cherished revenge on the little place by 
holding it up to ridicule, and alluding to anything 
rough, uncouth, and unpleasant as worthy of Skow- 
hegan. 

Artemus asked a friend once, in my presence, whether 
his acquaintance with the American press was very 



78 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

extensive. The person interrogated replied that he 
knew most of the American newspapers. Whereupon 
Artemus inquired if the Skowhegan Clarion was among 
the number ? On being replied to that it was not, he 
looked pityingly at the party with whom he was in 
conversation and said, "I am sorry for you if you 
don't read the Skowhegan Clarion. It is your duty to 
read it. There is no paper like it in the States — nor 
anywhere else!" 

Before he was sixteen years of age Charles Browne 
left his home, bade farewell to the Skowhegan Clarion, 
and quitted his native State of Maine to seek his 
fortune in the metropolis of New England. He was 
not " Artemus Ward" then, had no influential friends 
to tender him a helping hand, nor any well- filled 
purse to console him for the loss of old companions ; 
but he had ambition, a light heart, and excellent 
spirits ; in addition to all of which he was in a land 
where the willing hand can always find work to do, 
and where youth is thought to be of some value — a 
land where a man can get his chance before his hair 
is grey, his strength gone, and the freshness of his 
intellect has faded for ever. 



,i 



MBS. PARTINGTON:' 79 



CHAPTER VI. 

CLEVELAND HOW MR. CHARLES BROWNE BECAME 

"ARTEMUS WARD." 

" l\/r RS - PARTINGTON" is an old lady who 
IV J. once enjoyed extensive celebrity in the 
United States, and who still lives in the memory of 
her friends as one who contributed largely to their 
mirth, and helped to make happy many of their hours 
of ease. She is a most eccentric old character, apt to 
raise many ridiculous objections, say many absurd 
things, and commit herself in various egregiously in- 
consistent actions. She is the national Mrs. Malaprop. 
Her utterances are always provocative of laughter, 
while her opinions and deeds are a never-failing source 
of amusement. She owes her birth to Mr. B. P. 
Shillaber of Chelsea, near Boston, who, when 
T travelled in America with Artemus Ward, was 
one of the editors of the Boston Saturday Evening 
Gazette. 

A small and mildly-comic journal, entitled The 
Carpet Bag, was the organ of " Mrs. Partington's" 
communications with the public. Mr. Shillaber — one 
of the most genial, warm-hearted, sincere, and tho- 
roughly estimable of men — was the editor of The 
Carpet Bag, and the author of the sayings and doings 
of the celebrated old lady. Charles Browne, fresh 



8o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

from Maine, a mere youth, with all the crudities of 
the country about him, and of a singularly lean and 
lank appearance, offered himself as a compositor in the 
office of The Carpet Bag, and readily found employ- 
ment. Among the contributors to the paper were 
Mr. Charles G. Halpine, who under the sobriquet of 
" Miles O'Reilly " achieved much reputation as a 
humorist, and Mr. John G. Saxe, one of the most 
accomplished authors of American light literature, as 
well as one of the most eloquent and fascinating lec- 
turers in the United States. Day by day, as the 
youthful compositor from Maine set up the articles of 
these talented writers, he studied and enjoyed their 
humour, until at length the idea crept into his mind 
that possibly he could write a funny article, if not as 
well as they could, at least well enough for it to have 
a chance of getting into The Carpet Bag. Then why 
not try ? " He listened to that ' still small voice' in 
the heart''' — to quote the words of the elder Disraeli — 
" which cries with Correggio and with Montesquieu, 
c Ed io anche son pit tore !' " So listening, he tried, 
wrote an article, disguised his handwriting, put his 
contribution into the editor's box, and enjoyed the 
triumph of having it given out to him to set up at case, 
without the editor knowing that the compositor to 
whom he gave it was the youth by whom it had been 
written ! 

" I went to the theatre that evening. Had a good 
time of it, and thought that I was the greatest man in 
Boston," added Artemus Ward, after telling me this 
anecdote of his first success. His eyes glistened while 
he spoke, and the animation of his manner betrayed 
that he lived his triumph over again in remembering 
the joy with which it was won. His narration of it 



i 



THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 



Plate IV 







The view above may recall, to those who have seen it, Mr. Bierstadt's 
celebrated picture. 



ROCKY MOUNTAINS' SCENERY. 




This picture is a continuation of the preceding one. Artemus Ward 

m 



AMERICAN HUMORISTS. 81 

reminded me of the preface to " Pickwick," in which 
Mr. Charles Dickens recounts how he dropped his first 
essay " with fear and trembling into a dark letter-box 
in a dark office, up a dark court in Fleet-street/"' and 
how, when it appeared in print, he "walked down to 
Westminster Hall and turned into it for half an hour, 
because my eyes were so dimmed with joy and pride 
that they could not bear the street, and were not fit 
to be seen there." 

A statement has appeared in some of the American 
papers, to the effect that " Mrs. Partington" was the 
model which Charles Browne used for the creation of 
that peculiar display of humour which characterizes 
the writings of " Artemus Ward ;" but I have the 
authority of the author's own statement to me for re- 
cording that the humorous writings of Seba Smith 
were his models, so far as humour thoroughly sui 
generis can be said to have had any model whatever. 
It is true, as one Transatlantic writer has suggested, 
that the satirical vein in which Mr. Saxe writes of the 
commonplaces of society, and the sarcasnj with which 
Mr. Halpine treats political topics, may have influ- 
enced the mind of the young humorist from Maine, 
and contributed to form the characteristics of his 
style ; but John Phoenix was an author of whom 
Artemus Ward was accustomed to speak in terms of 
admiring familiarity, more than of either of the 
above-named contributors to the comic literature of 
America. 

While resident in Boston, Charles Browne availed 
himself of every chance of visiting the theatre. He 
studied the plays and courted the society of the actors 
and actresses. There were few of what are by courtesy 
termed legitimate plays with which he did not become 



$2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

acquainted while a mere youth. Boston soon seemed 
to be too circumscribed a place in which to remain 
any longer. Naturally nomadic in disposition, he left 
the great city to go and see the greater world outside. 
Plays of a grander character, and actors and actresses 
of far more importance, were awaiting him there. 
Like a German artisan, Charles Browne wished to learn 
his craft while travelling from city to city, and while 
studying the habits of many men. According to his 
own confession, the early career of Mr. Bayard Taylor, 
as a travelling journeyman printer, had stimulated him 
to imitation, and the vocation of a compositor offered 
him peculiar facilities for earning his bread in what- 
ever town he might be led by circumstances or 
by caprice. He wandered through the State of 
Massachusetts, made two or three halts in the State of 
New York, and after a year or two had passed away, 
came to a stopping place at a little town called Tiffin, 
situated in Seneca county, Ohio. . He once told me 
that at that time he could seldom keep five dollars in 
his pocket, and, if I am rightly informed, he walked 
into the town of Tiffin with much less than that 
amount, and with a change of clothes rolled up in a 
bundle, and carried on his back. 

The wandering life led by Artemus Ward in his 
earliest years has been instanced by some of his less 
kindly critics, as proof of an aimless, purposeless 
character. On the contrary, it was in full accordance 
with his youngest ambition, and with the well-con- 
sidered design of his boyhood. He wished to see the 
world ; he desired to be a traveller and emulate 
Bayard Taylor. With a " composing-stick" to use as 
a workman, and the ability to pick up his 
" ems " a little faster than some of his fellow- 



i 



TOLEDO OF TEE WEST. 83 

craftsmen, he thought that he could accomplish his 
design. " I didn't know but what I might get as 
far as China, and set up a newspaper one day in 
the tea-chest tongue/' was his remark, when upon 
one occasion he alluded to this period of his 
career. 

In the town of Tiffin, Artemus Ward undertook the 
double duties of reporter and compositor. His salary 
amounted to four dollars per week, and much of the 
chief work of the Tiffin newspaper was entrusted to 
him. Though the remuneration was slight, the life he 
led was a joyous one. His cleverness and frank good 
humour won him many friends, while the chances he 
had of saying a good word for those who deserved it, 
caused him never to be without a dollar. In a news- 
paper sketch of his life written by Mr. Townsend, the 
writer says : — " People in Tiffin remember him still, 
in the luxury of new apparel, purchased by a notice of 
our enterprising townsman, the dry-goods merchant, 
and making free with strangers in the town of which 
he was the crowning hospitality. Every travelling 
show that happened in the place found in him a patron, 
and he was most generally behind the scenes, happy 
as a king in the friendship of clown and acrobat, who 
recognised in him the traditional good fellow and 
incipient genius." 

Tiffin could not hold its new hero of the press for 
ever. Fortune beckoned him to take a trip to Toledo, 
and to Toledo he went. Not to Toledo of the 
Spaniard and the Moor; not that glorious old 
Toledo where the Jew stored his learning and the 
Saracen found his steel, but a very different Toledo 
indeed — a young Toledo, situated at the western 
end of Lake Erie, with Dundee not far off, and 

G % 



84 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Vienna close at hand. The Toledo Commercial was 
the name of the journal which wooed Artemus 
Ward from his temporary home in Tiffin, and to be- 
come engaged on it at a slight increase of the salary- 
he had been receiving, he migrated with high hopes 
and a light heart. It was a wild harum-scarum sort 
of town to migrate to — that Toledo of the west. I 
retain a lively recollection of two days spent in it 
during winter ; and when I wish to go somewhere to 
spend two cold days in winter another time I think 
that I shall not select Toledo. It has left upon my 
mind a picture of a town half-built, a picture of 
wooden side-walks and roads knee-deep in mud — of 
canals and rough-mannered boatmen — of one hotel over 
the arch of the railway station, with din enough 
beneath to prevent any one from sleeping, and of 
another hotel mnch larger and dismally grand, away 
out in the fields, to which I tried to get home in the 
dark, along a plank footpath, and narrowly escaped 
suffocation in a pool of watery mud. But for all that 
the town is a very busy one, the inhabitants are 
go-ahead people, and as they are aware that the 
Spanish namesake of their town was famous for its 
swords, they also have started a Toledo Blade ; only it 
happens to be a newspaper with that title instead of 
being an article of cutlery. Happy Toledo, where they 
have no use for their " Blades " except for the 
exercise of their pens ! 

While engaged on The Toledo Commercial, Artemus 
Ward acquired his first reputation as a writer of 
sarcastic paragraphs. He commenced as a compositor 
and rose to be a reporter. The reporter of the other 
paper and he waged continual war. Western editors 
are by no means sparing in their abuse of one another, 



"TEE CLEVELAND PLAINDEALER." 85 

and frequently mistake unwarrantable vituperation for 
galling satire. Toledo required excitement, and the 
new " local editor" was permitted to be as vivacious 
as he pleased. Permission was given him to cut and 
slash. What fairer chance could a very young author 
desirous of making a name possibly want? But 
Artemus did his work with talent as well as energy. 
He could be humorous as well as caustic, he could be 
witty as well as ferocious. Therein he had the advan- 
tage of his opponent on the antagonistic journal. His 
column of the paper soon became the one which every- 
body read. The articles in it were purely of local 
interest and not worth reprinting; but they served 
their purpose admirably at the time. The skill of the 
writer attracted attention, his fame travelled along the 
shore of Lake Erie, and in the summer of 1858, when 
Charles Browne had attained his twenty-fourth year, 
he received an invitation from Mr. J. W. Gray of 
Cleveland to change his place of abode to that city, 
and become local reporter of The Cleveland Plaindealer, 

at a salary of twelve dollars per week ! 

In all the great State of Ohio there is not a more 
pleasant city than Cleveland. In winter it partakes 
of the general cheerlessness of the new cities of the 
West ; but in summer its broad streets, most of 
them ornamental, shaded with green trees, and kept 
cool by the fresh breezes off Lake Erie, render it a 
delightful place of residence. There is one street 
called Euclid-street — though what the old geometri- 
cian of Alexandria had to do with it I am at a loss 
to imagine — which for its beauty, its leafy trees, its 
well-built villas, its stately aspect, and its cleanly con- 
dition, would be worthy of Paris, in the neighbourhood 
of the Bois, or- of Berlin ' in the vicinity of the Bran- 



86 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

denburgh Gate. In a stroll along this beautiful 
street, on a moonlight evening, some five years ago, 
Artemus Ward detailed to me many of bis early 
experiences in tbe fair city of Cleveland; how he 
journeyed to it from Toledo ; how he toiled as a 
reporter on the Plaindealer ; how he wrote himself 
into celebrity; became "Artemus Ward, the Showman/'' 
and having gained a name throughout the United 
States, was at length invited to leave the seclusion 
of Lake Erie, aud become an editor in the great 
metropolis of New York. 

Cleveland is a goodly city to look upon if you look 
at it in the right direction. " Every medal has its 
reverse," says the old Italian proverb ; so has every city. 
There are few cities among some hundreds with which 
I am acquainted that have not their work-day and 
their holiday side. Cleveland is a most agreeable town 
in the neighbourhood of Euclid-street, or of the public 
square, but it is a very noisy place round about 
Pittsburgh and Kinsman streets on market mornings ; 
and a very dirty, smoky one where the Cuyahoga 
river, down in a deep valley, flows past manufactories 
with tall chimneys, and workshops grimy with the 
soot of forges and the smoke of furnaces. The office 
of the Cleveland Plaindealer is at the corner of two 
streets ; the approach to it along the main street 
is pleasant enough, for that is broad, open, and 
airy, but the corner on which the newspaper office 
stands is one where the traveller in search of 
the beautiful would not be likely to linger long. 
Why the light of the press should be given forth 
from narrow courts, dingy back streets, pestiferous 
alleys, and uncomfortable corners, is a problem re- 
quiring solution. But an awkward building, hard to 



THE EDITOR'S ROOM. 87 

find, and unpleasant to visit, is in too many instances 
the one chosen for the home of the daily or weekly 
journal, and the abode of gloom, in which the slave of 
the pen shall write brilliant leading articles, or spark- 
ling paragraphs, using the pyrotechny of his art to 
light up the darkness of his studio. 

The office to which Mr. Charles Browne was con- 
signed was no exception to the general rule. What- 
ever of the bright, the cheerful, and the sunny was 
destined to emanate from the pen of the young 
journalist, had to be " evolved from his inner consci- 
ousness/'' for there was nothing suggestive of any of 
these qualities in the dreary room wherein he was 
expected to write his articles. Nor had he an apart- 
ment allotted to himself alone : a desk among desks, a 
corner amongst the corners of a many-cornered small 
room, was all that was allowed him. There he 
was supposed to write out his reports, and jot down 
his humorous fancies, amidst the interruptions of an 
editor's room in the West, open as it is to pretty 
nearly all comers, from the politician boiling over with 
some exciting political news, to the agent of the 
showman, anxious to expatiate on the merits of a 
coming show, or the enterprising tradesman, willing 
to pay his fair price for a laudatory notice of his new 
stock of goods. In such an office there is pretty sure 
to be near at hand a whisky-bottle, with some 
Bourbon or Monongahela whisky in it; the chairs 
are usually very much " whittled /' and there are 
marks made by the heels of boots on the desks and on 
the tables. In some offices pencils take the place of 
pens, and the annoying sound of your fellow- workman's 
goose-quill is thereby obviated; but Artemus Ward 
had much faith in the stimulus of moist ink. His 



88 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

little desk, still preserved in the office at Cleveland, is 
thoroughly well ink-stained, while his arm-chair bears 
in its cnt and carved defacement copious evidence 
that when the penknife had nibbed the quill it was 
carelessly used as a convenient tool for " whittling/'' 

The politics of the Cleveland Plaindealer have 
always been what in the political technology of the 
United States is entitled Democratic. In England 
we use the word " Conservative" to express something 
nearly allied to the same idea. As it was the first, so 
I believe the Plaindealer is now the only, thoroughly 
Democratic daily paper in the north of the great State 
of Ohio. The politics of Artemus Ward were never 
very clearly denned by him, and I doubt if he ever 
had any clear political creed. In America politics 
are a trade. The tricks of the politicians were 
too evident to the glance of the genial humorist 
for him to attach much value to the trade or the 
tradesmen ; he laughed at the comicalities of the trade, 
satirized the rottenness of the business, and ridiculed 
the pretensions of the traders. For all that, his con- 
nexion with a leading Democratic journal influenced 
his views, gave a bias to his thoughts, and a colour to 
his writings. Not but that by nature he was a 
Conservative. I remember his going into raptures 
over his discovery of that paragraph in one of our 
Ex-Premier's novels, where Mr. Disraeli defiantly 
asks the question — " Progress to what ? — progress 
to Paradise or to Pandemonium?" 

Artemus had very little faith in popular cries, and 
some doubts about the " vox populi" being the " vox 
Dei." His scepticism in this respect is frequently 
apparent in the sayings of his imaginary old showman. 
It crops out in many sly hints and caustic jests. 



A SHOWMAN'S POLITICS. 89 

While engaged on the paper in Cleveland,, his 
associates were mostly men who belonged to the 
Democratic party, and among them were some of 
the most talented. Mr. Joseph W. Gray, the pro- 
prietor and editor of the Plaindealer, was a man 
of brilliant wit and great ability. His contributions 
to the literature of the day were copied all over the 
Union ; and he was the confidential friend and adviser 
of the celebrated Stephen A. Douglas, who contested 
the election for the Presidential chair with Abraham 
Lincoln. Mr. John B. Bouton, a New York journalist 
of eminence, was another of Artemus Ward's asso- 
ciates during his reporting days. There was not 
a clever man in Cleveland — or indeed in Ohio, no 
matter what his political sentiments or his peculiar 
tendencies — with whom the young Western humorist 
did not become acquainted before he threw his pen 
down for the last time on the little desk in the 
editorial room of the Plaindealer. Later in life it 
was said of him that he knew more gentlemen of the 
Press in America than did any other man. 

To chronicle the local changes in the town, attend 
public meetings, report the proceedings of the muni- 
cipal magnates, notice concerts and criticise the per- 
formances at the theatre — Ellsler's u Academy of 
Music" I believe it was called at the time — were 
among the duties which first devolved upon Artemus 
Ward. They were duties which led him largely into 
society and caused him to mix with various classes of 
people, especially with that class of which he was 
most fond — actors, actresses, showmen, and public 
entertainers generally. With this latter class he was 
" hail fellow, well met V in the free-and-easy manner 
of the far West ; but in the midst of hilarity his eye 



90 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

was still watchful and his powers of observation ever 
on the alert. His reports were characterized by the 
happy manner in which they reflected the spirit of the 
meeting ; his criticisms were piquant, witty, and some- 
times good-humoredly severe ; his notices were brim- 
ful of mirth; and whenever he could lighten up a 
paragraph with a pleasant jest, he unfailingly availed 
himself of the chance. 

Engaged as he was in other duties, he found time 
to sketch a series of caricatures of the local politicians. 
The "Western Reserve/'' as that part of the country 
was then familiarly designated, had many politicians 
who had talked themselves into notoriety, amongst 
whom were the names of Giddings, Tilden, D. K. 
Cartter, and Wade. All these gentlemen were fair 
game for the young humorist to shoot at. He shot 
like a skilful marksman. His shots told, and his 
skill gained him ready renown. Besides, it was fun 
of a sort which suited the journal on which he wrote, 
and was something more amusing than the dull duties 
of a " local editor/' What Artemus thought of those 
duties may be gathered from a short paragraph which 
appeared from his pen in the columns of the Plain- 
dealer. It is here transcribed : — 

" Editing. — Before you go for an editor,, young 
man, pause and take a big think ! Do not rush into 
the editorial harness rashly. Look around and see if 
there is not an omnibus to drive, some soil some- 
where to be tilled, a clerkship on some meat-cart 
to be filled, anything that is reputable and healthy, 
rather than going for an editor, which is hard busi- 
ness at best. We are not a horse, and consequently 
have never been called upon to furnish the motive 



THE BIRTH OF THE SHOW. 91 

power for a threshing machine ; but we fancy that the 
life of the editor, who is forced to write, write, write, 
whether he feels right or not, is much like that 
of the steed in question. If. the yeas and neighs 
could be obtained, we believe the intelligent horse 
would decide that the threshing machine is preferable 
to the sanctum editorial." 

Secure in his seat as " local editor/'' with his repu- 
tation well established for drollery and humorous 
fancy, the mirthful journalist conceived the feli- 
citous idea of impersonating a character, and embody- 
ing the experience he had gained of the life of 
showmen in general, in the conception of a quaint 
old hypothetical showman of his own creation, who 
should at once take rank in the literary world as an 
author, relating incidents in a showman's manner, and 
describing places visited from a showman's point of 
view. 

Happy as the idea really was, the full conception 
of the character and its surroundings evinced the 
most marked felicity of inventive genius. The shrewd- 
ness of a Barnum was to be united with the stupidity 
of an uneducated itinerant exhibitor, who had gained 
his experience by roughing it in the West amongst 
the towns and villages on the outer edge of the circle 
of civilization, and in a state of society where the 
more refined forms of amusement are comparatively 
unknown. The old showman was to have the smart- 
ness of a Yankee, combined with the slowness of one 
whose time had been chiefly spent among the back- 
woods ; he was to blend humorous stupidity with 
unscrupulous mendacity, to have very little of the 
reverential about him, a modicum of the philosophic, 



92 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

and a large amount of the broadly comic. His home 
was to be in Indiana, that being a State of the Union 
abounding in quaint specimens of uncultured and 
eccentric people ; and he was to be the possessor of 
a show consisting of " Three moral Bares, a Kangaroo 
(a amoozin little Raskal — -'twould make you larf yer- 
self to deth to see the little cuss jump up and squeal), 
wax figgers of G. Washington, Genl. Taylor, John 
Bunyan, Captain Kidd, and Dr. Webster, besides 
several miscellanyous moral wax stattoots of celebrated 
piruts and murderers/'' 

The idea of the showman being conceived, and the 
character of the show being settled, a name was re- 
quired for the supposititious new author who was to 
give forth his experiences to the world. Hitherto 
literature had numbered Charles Browne amidst the 
rank and file of its army — henceforth it was to enter 
upon its roll-call the name of " Artemus Ward." 

There is, I believe, a mistake made by some people 
who suppose that a real veritable entity of a showman 
once existed whose name was " Artemus Ward/' and 
that he and Mr. Charles Browne were once ac- 
quainted. I think I may safely assert that there uever 
was an individual of the name among the showman 
fraternity. On more than one occasion I have heard 
Artemus Ward interrogated relative to how he came 
to choose that sobriquet for his imaginary character. 
His explanation was that he scarcely knew why he 
selected it in preference to any other, that he was in 
want of a name for his old showman, and remembered 
" Artemas Ward " as being that of one of the 
generals who fought in the army of the first American 
Revolution. The name had impressed itself upon his 
memory, being, as he considered a very droll one, and 



TEE NAME OF " ARTEMUS." 93 

for the lack of a better he called it into service. 
When he signed it to the first letter he wrote as a 
Showman to the Cleveland Plainclealer, he little 
thought of the celebrity to which it would attain, and 
that in a few years the coffin-plate of the writer would 
bear the inscription, following the record of his own 
proper name, — "Known to the world as 'Artemus 
Ward/ " 

In the orthography of the name the humorist 
took occasion to deviate slightly from the accepted 
method of spelling "Artemus.-" He substituted "u" 
for " a" in the last syllable. The old major-general 
who commanded the troops of New England before 
Washington was a general, figures in history as 
" Artemas Ward." The records of Massachusetts also 
include the names of Artemas Ward of Roxbury, who 
filled the singular position in society of being a con- 
tractor for the feeding and fattening of pigs, and of 
Judge Artemas W r ard, Vho was for many years judge 
of the Court of Probate in that State. But it was 
the Revolutionary general from whom the humorous 
old showman of " Baldinsville in Injianny" received 
his prenomen and his family name. Originally the 
property of a warrior, they became a nom de guerre. 

The letters of " Artemus Ward" in the Cleve- 
land Plaindealer were not the result of any precon- 
certed and well-matured plan of writing a series of 
amusing articles. The first one was written on the 
spur of the moment, merely to supply " copy" 
for the paper when the writer had nothing better with 
which to fill up a column. It now forms the first of 
the papers in the volume entitled — u Artemus Ward, 
His Book." Being the first of the series, and descrip- 
tive of the imaginary eccentric old showman, as well 



94 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

as of his heterogeneous and oddly-assorted show, I 
transcribe it to these pages as an important and in- 
teresting record of its author. 

" To the Editor or the Plain Dealer. 

a Sir, — Fin moving along — slowly along — down 
tords your place. I want you should write me a 
letter, sayin how's the show bizniss in your place. 
My show at present consists of three moral Bares, a 
Kangaroo (a amoozin little Raskal — "'twould make you 
larf to deth to see the little cuss jump up and squeal), 
wax figgers of G. Washington, Gen. Taylor, John 
Bunyan, Dr. Kidd and Dr. Webster in the act of 
killin Dr. Parkman, besides several miscellanyus moral 
wax stattoots of celebrated piruts and murderers, &c, 
ek ailed by few, and exceld by none. Now, Mr. Editor, 
scratch off a few lines sayin how is the show bizniss 
down to your place. I shall have my hand bills dun 
at your offiss. Depend upon it. I want you should 
git my hand bills up in flamin style. Also git up a 
tremenjus excitement in yr paper, 'bowt my onparaleld 
show. We must fetch the public somehow. We 
must work on their feelins — come the moral on ; em 
strong. If it's a temperance community, tell 'em I sined 
the pledge fifteen minits arter ise born. But on the 
contrary, if your people take their tods, say that Mister 
Ward is as genial a feller as we ever met — full of con- 
wiviality, and the life and sole of the soshul Bored. 
Take, don't you? If you say anything 'bout my 
show, say my snaix is as harmless as the new born 
babe. What a interesting study it is too see a zono- 
logical animal, like a snaik, under perfeck subjection. 
My Kangaroo is the most larfable little cuss I ever 
saw — all for 15 cents. I am anxyus to skewer your 



LETTERS OF A SHOWMAN. 95 

inflooence. I repeet in regard to them hand bills, 
that I shall git ; em struck off np to your printin offiss. 
My perlitical sentiments agree with yourn exackly. 
I know they do, becauz I never saw a man whoos 
didn't. 

" Kespectfully yours, 

"A. Ward. 

" P.S. — You scratch my back and He scratch your 
back." 

The originality of this letter, its quaint fancies, its 
odd spelling, its satire and its humour, caused it to be 
copied and recopied in hundreds of newspapers through- 
out the United States. The owner of the " on- 
paraleld show" was thought by most people to be a 
reality instead of a pleasant fiction. More letters 
from him were anxiously desired, and the public 
throughout America became the friends of "The 
Genial Showman." 



96 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER VII. 

NEW YORK THE VERDICT IN THE CELLAR. 

DOWN at PfafFs the verdict was given. And 
down at PfafFs they were accustomed to con- 
duct trials with rapidity, return verdicts with em- 
phasis, and pass judgment with honeyed kindness, or 
with savage severity. 

The verdict in this case was favourable down at 
Pfaff's. 

Literature and the drama were the two classes of 
crime adjudicated on at PfafFs. Young authors, 
new books, the last dramatic importation from 
England, the debutante at the opera, the novice who 
had appeared at Niblo's or at the Winter Garden 
— these were the criminals to be tried and sentenced, 
acquitted or condemned. 

Down at PfafFs the verdict was, that " A Visit to 
Brigham Young/'' by Artemus Ward, in the number 
of Vanity Fair just issued, was by far the funniest 
article contributed to that journal during the second 
period of its career. It was the first article from 
the pen of the new author published in Vanity 
Fair, and the journal in which it was printed was 
the leadiug comic paper of the city of New York. 
The verdict it received down at PfafFs was heartily 



DOWN AT PFAFF'S. 97 

endorsed by the publie in the streets above; for 
PfafPs was under the street. 

It was in the number of Vanity Fair bearing date 
November 10, i860, that the contribution above 
alluded to appeared. The jury down in PfafPs 
cellar knew very well that Artemus Ward at that time 
had never visited the Mormon territory, and that his 
account of the interview with Brigham Young was 
simply pleasant fiction. 

They knew everything down at PfafPs. That 
which they did not know they assumed they did, 
which, being about the same as knowing it, the gram- 
matical construction of this paragraph holds good. 
Many of them being young men, and all of them 
critics, the gentlemen who assembled at PfafPs were 
encyclopedic in their information, and never suspected 
the correctness of their opinions. 

PfafPs cellar in Broadway was a singular place. 
At the date of which I am writing it ranked as the head- 
quarters of Bohemia in New York. It was situated 
near to the well-known Winter Garden Theatre, the 
destinies of which were then controlled, I believe, by 
Mr. Dion Boucicault. In the great cities of the 
United States it is a common thing for the places of 
refreshment to be situated in an underground apart- 
ment in one of the principal thoroughfares, a flight of 
steps giving direct access from the street. In New 
York many of these cellars are at prominent corners, 
and have very well-painted signs, and extremely large 
lamps to attract the attention of passers-by. Some 
cellars are famous for the quality of the whisky sold, 
some for the excellence of the lager beer, and 
many of them for the first-class oyster suppers which 
they furnish. 



98 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

It was one of these cellars which lured Mr. 
Thackeray to its fascinating depths. The author 
of " The Newcomes" chanced to be wandering up 
Broadway, when he perceived a sign on which was 
written, " Oysters cooked here in thirty-six different 
ways." Impelled by curiosity as well as a good ap- 
petite, he descended the steps and astonished the 
waiters by asking for oysters "cooked in thirty-six 
different -ways/'' As a rule, such requests are seldom 
made in a New York oyster cellar. 

So little is apparent from the street, that a stranger 
merely peeping down would fail to form an adequate 
idea of the luxurious style in which many of these 
cellars are furnished. Nearly all of them have a bar 
with a marble top to it for the sale of drinks, and a 
counter, similarly fitted up, on which oysters are 
placed in carefully stacked piles, with a huge lump 
of glittering ice crowning the summit of each pile. 
The cellar is likely to have one or two, if not more, 
cabinets or private rooms for parties wishing to sup 
quietly ; and there are sure to be about a dozen boxes 
or alcoves, each furnished with its little table, its well 
stuffed seats and its crimson curtains to exclude the 
occupants from the view of other customers. The 
woodwork in most instances is of mahogany or walnut, 
while the floor is very often of white and black marble 
arranged in diamond- shaped pieces. 

Varied is the reputation of these cellars for the 
class of refreshment furnished, but still more varied 
is the character of the frequenters of each. One will 
be the resort of gentlemen of the theatrical profession, 
another will be the favourite haunt of the young men 
about town, a third will be the meeting-place of the 
sporting fraternity, and a fourth will be especially 



A CELLAR IN NEW YORK. 99 

patronized by those interesting songsters who make 
visual semi-tones of their features before proceeding 
to sing, so that the black face between the two halves 
of the white shirt collar, reminds one of the key-board 
of a pianoforte. But some of the cellars of New 
York are frequented by the very scum of its strange 
cosmopolitan community, and have arrangements for 
beguiling their visitors with singing and dancing of 
the most inferior description. Until recently these 
underground dens were the nearest approach to the- 
type of the London Music Hall ; but enterprising 
Americans have lately taken across from England not 
only the models of the Alhambra and the Canter- 
bury, but many of the performers who have appeared 
at both those places, and have fitted up a transatlantic 
Alhambra of their own, side by side with the grand 
and fashionable house devoted to Italian Opera. 
Americans are very apt to think that they are a-head 
of the old world in every particular ; yet they have 
allowed us to have many years' start with the Music 
Halls, and they have only just come up to us in a 
Hansom cab. 

To return to PfafFs cellar. It was not like others 
in the same city. Descending to it from Broadway, 
the visitor found himself in a large apartment, under 
the shop above. On one side was a long counter 
well supplied with tempting articles of refreshment, 
and in front of the counter were rows of tables 
and chairs for the guests. The place had a celebrity, 
well merited then and possibly still enjoyed, for 
its German wines and its foreign dishes. Further- 
more, everything was sold at a reasonable price, and 
he who went there, if his purse happened to be light, 
could breakfast, dine or sup without fear of having too 

h 2 



ioo THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

large a bill to pay. But the one great attraction of 
the place was an arched cellar under the pavement of 
the street. Round against the walls of this cellar 
were barrels, and in the middle space a large 
table and a requisite number of seats. The arch was 
dimly lighted, had a weird, dull, and gloomy appear- 
ance, and was nothing more than a capacious vault, 
undecorated and somewhat unsavoury. Yet here 
Bohemia at one time loved to congregate. Down 
in this vault the King of Bohemian New York held 
his court. 

That court of Bohemia has been in mourning many 
times since I was first presented at it down in PfafFs 
cellar. Very few of the brilliant young men who 
figured at it then are living now. Among them was 
Edward Wilkins the dramatic critic of the New York 
Herald, a talented and kind-hearted man, long since 
dead. Associated with him were Fitz-James O'Brien 
the graceful poet, George Arnold the thoughtful and 
sprightly essayist, poet, and humorist, Frank Wood, 
Henry Neil, and Artemus Ward. All have deserted 
for ever that memorable Bohemian court. None of 
them will ever descend those steps again to salute 
Mr. Pfaff, and be merry round the table in the cellar 
of that bland and portly Teuton. 

There were good Bohemians and there were bad 
Bohemians amongst the patrons of PfafFs. Some 
there were who played at Bohemia, and supposed that 
to loiter at PfafFs during unseasonable hours, drink 
foaming beer or good Rhine wine, play cards, carry 
unread books about under the arm, and lead a listless, 
heedless, aimless life, made them naturalized subjects 
of the Bohemian kingdom; and that they came into 
the possession of genius as a natural consequence. 



PEOPLE AT " PFAFF'S." 101 

Others there were who were to the manner born, and 
who had the true type of legitimate natives of that 
eccentric realm. Some of these latter have risen to 
eminence and cast off all allegiance to the Bohemia 
of their youthful love, though they once held high 
office at its court, and were enrolled in its Legion of 
Honour. 

Amongst the frequenters of Pfaff's cellar was one 
whose imagination was brilliant and whose poetry was 
good, but who had a strong antipathy to having a 
lodging of his own. He had the address of a gentle- 
man, but no address as a citizen. His friends were 
many. They would invite him to come and stay with 
them. He would borrow their latch-key and retain 
it when once lent to him. His pocket was full of 
latch-keys ; and, as his fancy prompted him so he 
would select where he would sleep, letting himself 
into the house at any hour of the night or morning. 
A servant going into a room to open the shutters or 
draw up a blind, would find an unexpected guest 
asleep on the sofa. If he had been a frequent visitor 
to the house he would be known to the domestics, 
but on more occasions than one he was mistaken for 
a burglar. 

There was another habitue of the cellar who had 
played the part of a Bohemian in Paris, and who be- 
cause he had lived in Paris considered himself to be 
the chief authority on all matters affecting civilization 
and the arts. As an author he had the faculty of 
writing an essay that would read like sprightly music, 
but be utterly devoid of ideas. As a critic he would 
be stingingly sarcastic or nauseously laudatory, ac- 
cording to the terms on which he was -with the artist 
criticised. Being a great poker-player he would in- 



102 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

vite those who were open to criticism to take a hand 
of cards with him. If they were desirous of praise 
they would do so; and, as they lost their money on 
the Monday, console themselves by anticipating the 
eulogium which would fall to their share in the paper 
of the following Saturday. A gay and festive patron 
of the cellar was the gentleman to whom I refer. 
Though neither young nor an Adonis, he knew more 
pretty actresses than almost any other man in New 
York. 

Like the company at "The Owl's Roost " in Mr. 
Robertson's comedy of Society, the people down at 
Pfaff's were gentlemen. One of them belonged to an 
aristocratic Irish family, another once owned ancestral 
halls in England. One there was who had been 
brought up to the church at Oxford or Cambridge, 
and who had all the dignity, suavity, and learning to 
qualify him for being a bishop, but who much pre- 
ferred writing plays, engineering shows and being an 
old Bohemian. There was another who had figured 
among the gayest of the gay world of London, who 
could paint a picture, write a drama, make very good 
poetry, display much critical ability, and rival the 
admirable Crichton in general proficiency ; but who, 
amiable and estimable as he was, could do much for 
others and little for himself. And there was yet 
another who would wear a sombrero hat and carry a 
thick stick. In his personal appearance he presented the 
Henry the Eighth type, and his face was always ruddy. 
In his talents he was versatile. When he had nothing 
better to do he would write plays — he could do his 
three acts at one sitting. At other times he would 
indite a religious essay or furnish comic copy. Then, 
to vary his occupation, he would get up a " Gift dis- 



TEE VERDICT ON TEE SHOWMAN. 103 

tribution enterprise" of gold watches, or turn " literary 
agent" to a circus, or go down south to exhibit a 
hippopotamic pig, or a phenomenon of a horse with sky- 
blue hair and feathers on its mane. Like the rest, he 
let the cares of life sit lightly on his shoulders ; and 
like the rest was more disposed to do a good turn than 
a bad one to those with whom he chanced to come in 
contact. 

These were the gentlemen who pronounced a 
favourable verdict on Artemus Ward's first paper in 
Vanity Fair. They voted for his coming to New 
York, and to New York he came. 

The first letter in the Cleveland Plaindealer pur- 
porting to emanate from an old showman on his travels 
gained immediate popularity. Its author quickly 
followed it up with a second one. In using cacography, 
or eccentric spelling, he had recourse to a legitimate 
source of humour, not of his own invention, but 
admirably in harmony with the character he had 
chosen to personate. There was no reason why he 
should not employ the same means for raising a laugh 
on the other side of the Atlantic, which Thomas Hood 
had already used so successfully on this side. Bad 
spelling was to be combined with " down-eastern " 
dialect. Of this latter Artemus Ward was perfect 
master, his place of birth and the people with whom 
he had associated in early youth, had rendered him 
thoroughly familiar with the quaint, and oft-times 
ludicrous idiomatic expressions of the uneducated pro- 
vincial native of New England. Though the average 
American does speak very good English, he is not quite 
a sinless Lindley Murray, as Mr. Reverdy Johnson would 
have had us believe. When, for instance, after you have 
told a young lady all that you know on the subject 



io 4 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

relative to which she requires information, she exclaims 
energetically, " Du tell \" a stranger to the land is apt 
to be puzzled as to which he should regret — her per- 
verted English, or her greed for further knowledge. 

Three letters with the signature of " Artemus 
Ward" affixed to them sufficed to ensure the popu- 
larity of the writer. They were copied in the " ex- 
changes" of hundreds of papers throughout the United 
States. The postal system of that country permitting 
the editorial craft to exchange their newspapers with 
one another free of postage. The author of the 
oddly-spelt, quaintly- conceived, and intensely comic 
letters was sought for by the proprietors of journals 
in cities remote from Cleveland. Applications were 
made to him from Boston to return to the city 
wherein his earliest contribution to literature had 
been printed. California sent him an invitation to 
make merry the shores of the Pacific, and New 
Orleans was quite willing that the old showman 
should pay her a visit to scatter a few jokes around 
the Gulf of Mexico. But to be asked by New York 
to be one among her citizens, and rank among her 
staff" of editors, was that which best accorded with the 
ambition of the youthful humorist. There he would 
have a fulcrum on which, with the already tested lever 
of his fun, he could raise a laugh throughout America. 

Like leaving a cheerful home to go to a large 
public school was that change from the small Western 
city to the great metropolis. Mr. N. Gr. Hoyt, one 
of Artemus Ward's fellow reporters, writes of him — 

" In Cleveland, Browne was the cynosure of all 
the wits of the town. By them he was throned a 
monarch of mirth, and at his feet were spread the 
rarest tributes of their excessive adulation. He 



COMIC JOURNALISM. 105 

quitted Cleveland and came to New York with letters 
to distinguished authors which he never presented. 
He won his own way here, as he had won it in the 
West/'' And referring to his social characteristics at 
this period of his career, Mr. Hoyt says — a To him 
everything wore a comical aspect. He saw fun in 
everything. His lips were always smiling. It was 
impossible for him to frown. Genial to all, every- 
thing that came within his quick, penetrating, obser- 
vant eye, wore its grotesque shape. * * * He never 
assumed to be anything more than he was, and he 
was as much at home in one place as in another if 
the people were only human and natural. He utterly 
scorned all and every attempt at cant and hypocrisy, 
and was as keenly alive to his own demerits and 
deficiencies as the most acute of his critics."" 

Such was the character of the man to whom New 
York held out the hand of fellowship. The hand that 
clasped it was one which never shook hands but with 
sincerity. 

Comic journalism in New York has not been a 
great success. Whether the talent requisite to up- 
hold a comic paper has failed to exist in sufficient 
quantity ; whether the tastes of the people are antago- 
nistic to the successful career of a periodical con- 
ducted on the principles of Punch, Fun, or Judy; 
whether sufficient enterprise has never been mani- 
fested, or whether the right sort of paper has never 
been started, I will not pretend to decide; but the 
fact is undeniable that many attempts have been 
made, and many failures resulted — and that, in cases 
where temporary success has been achieved, it has 
scarcely owed anything to the originality of the 
contributions. Perhaps the most praiseworthy of 



106 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

any of these attempts, was the journal to "which 
was given the name of Vanity Fair. The paper 
was well started, had a talented staff of writers, 
and an open field for development. Unfortunately 
it flickered with unsteady light through periods 
of radiancy and shade, to go out altogether 
before its brilliancy had become fully known and 
recognised. 

There were two periods of existence in the career 
of Vanity Fair. In its second period the editorial 
management was entrusted to Mr. Charles G. Leland, 
whose humorous poem in German-English, entitled 
" Hans Breitmann's Barty," has recently become so 
popular in this country as well as in America. While 
Mr. Leland was editing Vanity Fair, Artemus Ward 
sent to him from Cleveland the article detailing the 
interview of the old showman with Brigham Young, 
the head of the Mormon Church. And down at 
PfafFs that article was accounted quite sufficient to 
warrant the verdict that Artemus Ward was superior 
in humour to Major Jack Downing, and that he ought 
to take up his abode in New York city without delay. 

I have already stated that when Artemus Ward 
wrote the article he had never visited the Mormon 
region. When he did go there he remembered with 
fear and trembling that which two or three years pre- 
viously he had written in fun. Had Brigham Young 
seen it ? He had ; the book was in his library. 

Let the reader turn to the article itself, and he will 
find that Artemus Wa'rd asserts that he called upon 
Brigham Young, who asked him — " Do you bleeve in 
Solomon, Saint Paul, the immaculateness of the 
Mormin Church, and the Latterday Revelations ?" 
Replying favourably to which, he was invited by the 



VANITY FAIR. 1C7 

prophet to see his family, and was introduced to all 
his wives. The result of the interview and of his 
visit to Salt Lake being that, to quote the words of 
the article — "I packed up my duds and left Salt 
Lake, which is a 2nd Soddum and Germorrer, in- 
habited by as theavin and onprincipled a set of 
retchis as ever drew Breth in eny spot on the Globe. " 
This declaration of opinion, though very prejudicial 
to the writer when he really did visit Salt Lake, was 
excellently well fitted to the times when it was 
written, for the Mormons had attracted the attention 
of Congress, and an outcry been raised against them 
which threatened their total extinction. The contribu- 
tion to Vanity Fair, therefore, owed as much of its 
success to its being felicitously opportune as to its 
being inimitably humorous. 

In a very few weeks after becoming a contributor 
to the funny paper of New York, Artemus Ward re- 
ceived a letter from its proprietors offering him the 
position of assistant editor. In a communication 
written and sent to me by Mr. Charles Dawson 
Shanley, one of Charles Browne's earnest New York 
friends, and also one of his literary executors, Mr. 
Shanley states that — "Late in the summer of 1861 
Mr. Leland retired from the management of the 
paper, and ' Artemus' became sole editor of it, a posi- 
tion which he held only for a brief period." But 
during that "brief period" many of his best contribu- 
tions to the literature of his country were given to the 
public. And whatever there was of any merit in the 
columns of Vanity Fair from the time he assumed the 
editorial duties emanated from his own pen. There 
were elements of dissolution in the journal which no 
antiseptic power or restorative energy on the part of 



108 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the new editor was adequate to combat successfully. 
Artemus Ward succeeded in galvanizing it into a 
vigorous imitation of life, but its days were already 
numbered, and having struggled into its seventh 
volume, it ceased to exist. 

" They say that I can write comic copy," remarked 
Artemus Ward to a friend. " Comic copy was what 
they wanted for Vanity Fair. I wrote some and I 
killed it. The poor paper got to be a conundrum and 
so gave itself up." 

There were reasons, however, why the Showman of 
Baldinsville should have succeeded as an exhibitor of 
his own curiosities when he started his show in Vanity 
Fair, and reasons equally as cogent why he should not 
be successful in managing the entire ground of which 
he himself occupied but a portion. The duties of an 
editor require qualifications beyond the talent suffi- 
cient to constitute a good contributor. Above all, 
they demand application and an attention to routine. 
Now, routine was simply hateful to Artemus Ward. 
He was far too journalier, in the sense which the 
French attach to that word as an adjective, to be an 
exemplary illustration of it as a noun. 

To be no more than twenty- eight years old and to 
be the editor of the chief comic paper in the metropolis 
of the United States, was an achievement affording 
cause for self-congratulation. Yet the position ren- 
dered Artemus none the less amiable and none the 
less modest in New York, than when he had been a 
mere reporter in Cleveland. The world hailed him 
as a young man of great ability, but he always 
distrusted that ability himself, and manifested no 
jealousy of the literary talent possessed by any of his 
associates. 



EDITING A COMIC PAPER. ro 9 

His articles in Vanity Fair gained him a very 
large circle of acquaintances. From among them 
he selected a few friends. With him friendships, 
once formed, were destined to he lasting j and being 
durable, they were ardent, thorough, and sincere. 

During his literary career in New York city, 
Artemus Ward occupied lodgings in Varick-street, the 
house being the first on the right hand entering from 
Canal-street, and between Canal-street and St. John's 
Park. His place of abode was known to very few of 
his companions. They met him at breakfast or dinner 
at a restaurant, and late in the evening they would 
find him down in PfafFs cellar with the wit and the 
talent of the great city there congregated, and its 
representatives busily intent on discussing the topics 
of the day over Rhine wine or Bourbon whisky, with 
the elucidatory assistance of a short pipe or a fragrant 
cigar. 

The contributions of Artemus Ward to Vanity 
Fair were collected, collated, and arranged for pub- 
lication by himself in the volume issued by the 
publishing house of Messrs. Gr. W. Carleton and Co., 
of Broadway. I presume that every article which its 
author thought worthy of republication was reprinted. 

Mr. Shanley writes to me — " My impression is, 
that with the exception of a very few paragraphs, 
jokes, and such like, Artemus gave no unsigned con- 
tributions to Vanity Fair." To ferret out and repub- 
lish paragraphs which he himself thought most fitting 
to let pass out of memory, would hardly be respectful 
to the dead or interesting to the public. 

Sitting up in bed at Southampton on one of the 
days of his last illness, Artemus Ward attempted to 
write a brief autobiography. Using for the purpose a 



no THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

black-lead pencil, he succeeded in writing a single 
paragraph and then threw away the pencil in 
despair, finding himself too much exhausted to 
proceed. I have preserved the half-sheet of note- 
paper. The lines written upon it are the last 
that the gentle humorist wrote. As they contain 
one characteristic little jest, they are here given to 
the public : — 

" Some twelve years ago I occupied the position 
(or the position occupied me) of City Editor of a 
journal in Cleveland, Ohio. This journal — The Plain 
Dealer — was issued afternoons, and I was kept 
very busy indeed from 8 o'clock in the morning till 
half-past 3 in the afternoon in collecting the police 
reports and other items that might be of local 
interest/" 

I have hitherto endeavoured to trace the career 
of Artemus Ward as an author from his earliest 
article in the Boston Carpet-Bag to his becom- 
ing editor of a paper in New York. It is now 
time to regard him in the next character he 
assumed — that of a public lecturer. Tired of the pen, 
he resolved on trying the platform. Instead of merely 
writing as a showman, he determined to be one, and 
boldly to face that public which hitherto he had 
addressed from the dark recesses of a printing office. 
Down at PfafFs he was assured that he would succeed. 
In Cleveland, where he had previously entertained the 
idea, some of his friends had discouraged him. At 
PfafPs it was voted to be a matter of certainty that 
he would make a hit as a comic lecturer ; and — as I 
have stated before — they were always right down at 
Pfaff's. 



WHY PEOPLE LECTURE. in 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE UNITED STATES LECTURES AND THE 

LECTURING SYSTEM. 

AMERICA is a lecture-hall on a very extensive 
scale. The rostrum extends in a straight line 
from Boston, through New York and Philadelphia, to 
Washington. There are raised seats on the first tier 
in the Alleghanies, and gallery accommodation on the 
top of the Rocky Mountains. 

There may be some truth in the hyperbole of the 
morning drum-beat of the British army unceasingly 
encircling the globe; but yet more true it is that 
the voice of the lecturer is never silent in the United 
States. The subtle strains of wisdom which have 
their birth in Boston ; the pleasant orations delivered 
in New York ; and the dreary diatribes dealt forth in 
"Washington, resound at earliest morning along the 
shores of the Atlantic, and are echoed and re- 
echoed at latest night in the cities beside the 
Pacific. 

The lecturer is indigenous to American soil. No 
Darwin is required to explain the origin of his species, 
for his fans el origo are in the very nature of things. 
Every American believes himself to be the repository 
of extensive information ; within him is the pent-up 
source of knowledge ; his amiable spirit of benevolence 



ii2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

prompts him to let it flow forth for the enlightenment 
of his benighted fellow-citizens, and the outer world 
of darkness generally. 

Two sins not alluded to in the Decalogue are 
thought to be transcendent transgressions in America ; 
if committed, I believe that they are regarded as 
amounting to actual crimes. One is to grow old ; 
the other is not to know. 

" I don't know/" is an English phrase ; as much 
so as that thoroughly English idiom for expressing 
helplessness — " It can't be done/' Across the Atlantic 
they are phrases seldom or never heard. Anything 
can be done there ; and a schoolboy who, interrogated, 
should chance to reply that he " didn't know," would 
blush, not at his own ignorance, but that he had 
used the expression. 

Educated as he is to know a little of the rule of 
three and human anatomy — of Latin, hydrostatics, 
botany, navigation, and political economy, it is no 
wonder that the American schoolboy, peppered with 
science, and salted with history, should be a sciolist, 
with a strong inclination to teach. The " Pierian 
spring" being tasted only, the usual result follows. 
But better that it should,^ and better far that some 
results open to criticism should flow from the system 
of national education, than that there should be no 
system at all to produce such results. The universal 
knowledge of the superficially educated American is 
infinitely preferable to the profundity of ignorance 
which we too often meet with in England. Besides, 
that which an American knows, or thinks he knows, 
he is always ready to impart willingly and politely. 
He is not churlish enough to wrap himself up in the 
robes of his own knowledge, and refuse to lend a 



Plate V. 



MAIN STREET, SALT LAKE CITY. 




On the extreme right is seen the House of Legislature of Utah. The 
nature of the other buildings may be gathered from the inscriptions. 



ENTRANCE TO ECHO CANYON. 




Echo Canyon is about fifty-five miles from Salt Lake City. The extra- 
ordinary "bluffs" are yellow in colour, and of a congl omerate formation. 



AMERICAN EDUCATION. 113 

comer of his ample garment to keep warm the knees 
of a shivering fellow-traveller. In the States it is 
every man's duty to be informed, and you have only 
to ask for information to have it supplied to you in 
profusion. The clerk at the hotel, the conductor in 
the railroad " car/ 7 and the policeman on the street, 
are only too happy to oblige, if you will but ask them 
in a civil manner for that which you want to know. 
But speak to them as though you were addressing an 
equal : though they know that they are servants of 
the public, they will not submit to any domineering 
from you as a supercilious master. 

The heterogeneous elements which enter into the 
education of a young American citizen, and the 
varied acquirements he is supposed to possess, are 
national characteristics, which have been amusingly 
burlesqued by the Boston humorist, Mr. B. P. 
Shillaber, who makes his celebrated " Mrs. Par- 
tington" say — " For my part I can't deceive what 
on airth eddication is coming to. When I was 
young, if a girl only understood the rules of distrac- 
tion, provision, multiplying, replenishing, and the 
common denunciator, and knew all about rivers and 
their obituaries, the convents and dormitories, the 
provinces and the umpires, they had eddication 
enough. But now they have to study bottomy, 
algebery, and have to demonstrate supposition about 
the sycophants of circuses, tangents, and Diogenese of 
parallelogromy, to say nothing about the oxhides, 
corostics, and the abstruse triangles." 

A young lady educated as " Mrs. Partington," 
describes would possibly become as muddled in her 
mind as a young man chanced to be whom I once met 
at Birkenhead. Desirous of educating himself, he 



ii 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

had purchased two volumes of an excellent work 
entitled The Popular Educator , in which the Arts and 
Sciences are made easy of comprehension in a series 
of condensed elementary treatises. I asked him what 
order he observed in his study of the various subjects. 
He replied, that wishing to educate himself thoroughly 
he had resolved to begin from the beginning, and to 
do so had taken the alphabetical index of contents for 
his guide. He had commenced with " Acoustics/'' 
and gone on to " Anatomy/" " Architecture/' and 
" Astronomy/'' Thus he meant to go through with 
his studies gradually, and finish off with " Zoology." 

That there are reasons why a man should not know 
too much is illustrated in an anecdote told by the 
well-known Mr. J. H. Hackett, in the New York 
Leader. He tells it of a certain Mr. John Robinson, 
who offered himself as candidate for the office of 
Sheriff somewhere in Tennessee. Two farmers met 
one another on horseback, and the one asked the other 
whom he was going to vote for. 

" John Robinson," was the reply. 

" Vote for him l" rejoined the other ; " why he's 
so ignorant he can't spell his given name, ' John / and 
what's worse, he is so stupid, I would bet you ten 
dollars you couldn't larn him to spell it between now 
and to-morrow noon." 

The bet was made, a place of meeting arranged for 
its decision, and the farmers parted. He who had 
made the bet rode off to the house of John Robinson, 
told him of the conversation and the bet, and ascer- 
tained that the poor fellow really could not spell his 
own name. The farmer proposed to teach him, and 
to divide the winnings. Robinson assented and per- 
suaded his tutor to stay all night. 



MB. HACKETTS STOBY. its 

"Next morning, at breakfast — to tell the anecdote 
in the words of Mr. Hackett — " on John's being asked 
to spell the name he did so readily enough ; but his 
friend wasn't satisfied, and said, ' John, there may be 
some crooked ketch after all in such politics. There's 
time enough between now and noon, if you have a 
mind to lam the whole alphabet. I'll larn you from 
first to last — that is, from A to Izzard' — the latter 
being the common mode in America of naming the 
letter l Z' John agreed to be so high larnt ; and 
before noon, could say every letter from A to Izzard. 
Off they started at noon for the place appointed, 
where four or five of the neighbours had got together 
on purpose to hear John Robinson, and to judge 
whether he was able to spell his given name. Five 
men were appointed as judges, the bet recited, 
and John asked if he was ready to spell his name. 
John said 'Try me.' And the judges said, 'Well, 
spell John.' So John began with ' J.' All the 
judges looked at him and at one another, and then 
nodded and said, ' Right — next letter.' ( 0/ said 
John. They all looked at one another, as if there 
was some doubt about the letter, and said, ' Right ; 
now next letter.' Said John ' That's H.' John's 
friend seeing the judges, by halting in giving a judg- 
ment after each letter, had somewhat bothered him, 
cautioned him to keep cool till after the judges had 
done fooling, and had agreed and said, ' Right.' Now 
for the next letter, when his friend assured ' John, 
we are all right now, but the last letter — don't forget.' 
John hesitated, and thinking he meant the last letter 
of the alphabet, which he had just taken the trouble 
to learn, bellowed out, ' Izzard, by thunder !' and — 
lost the bet." 

1 2 



n6 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Mr. Hackett draws the moral from his anecdote 
that people are apt to know too much, and to suffer 
in consequence. Without endorsing to the full that 
deduction, I honestly believe that if the good people 
across the water had fewer individuals in their midst 
who feel themselves effervescing with information, and 
under such high pressure that they must impart it 
without delay, there would be a less number of 
lecturers, and many a patient audience would escape 
being bored. As it is, everything is lectured upon, 
from the destinies of humanity down to the proper 
method of making a pumpkin-pie. The poor President, 
no matter which, affords the most fertile theme. He 
is lectured upon before he is elected, lectured to all 
the time that he is in office, and made to serve as a 
frightful example to point a lecturer's moral, or 
adorn a lecturer's tale, after his term of office is 
concluded. 

Lectures certainly count among the list of 
" shows " in the Western World. All the arts of 
the showman are employed in aid of their popu- 
larity; and the chief showman, Mr. P. T. Barnum, 
having abandoned the exhibition-room for the rostrum, 
goes forth to eu lighten the multitude for the small 
fee of one hundred dollars per night and his ex- 
penses. 

I am not thoroughly acquainted with Mr. Barnum's 
views concerning the art of lecturing. But his idea 
of a lecture-room was certainly somewhat original. 
Within his renowned museum on Broadway the largest 
apartment was designated " The Lecture-room " Per- 
formances were given in it every evening, and almost 
every afternoon. In reality it was the theatre of the 
establishment, and was devoted to the representation 



LECTURE INSTITUTIONS. 1 1 7 

of stage-plays. To have called it a theatre would not 
have suited Mr. Barnum's purpose. His patrons being 
composed of sober-minded young men from the 
country, and innocent young maidens from the city, 
it was necessary that everything should be exceedingly 
proper to please the tastes of youth in search of 
amusement and ladies desirous of edification. The 
theatre was therefore described on the bills as The 
Moral Lecture-room. The propriety indicated by the 
title being illustrated by playing sensation dramas, 
and charging twenty-five cents additional to the lower 
seats. Between the acts of a drama it was customary 
to exhibit a giant, a dwarf, or any malformed being 
suitable for the purposes of a moral show. 

The old style of conducting public lectures in the 
United States is very like that of this country, but the 
system of later date is in accordance with the go-a- 
head character of the times, and is markedly different. 
There are venerable institutions on the other side of 
the Atlantic, which have their analogues in similar 
institutions on this side. For instance, in Boston, 
looking up a Court off Washington Street, may be 
noticed a large gloomy doorway, with a barber's shop 
on one side of it. Bostonians know the building in 
the rear as the Lowell Institute. They who desire 
solid information can obtain tickets gratis at certain 
seasons of the year, and at the Lowell Institute attend 
a series of lectures on Geology or Comparative Anatomy, 
delivered by the learned, eloquent, and estimable Pro- 
fessor Agassiz, or a course on the History of the 
United States, by one of its most erudite historians. 
The place, the audience, the lectures, and the general 
arrangement, remind one of Gresham College in Lon- 
don. Like that, the Lowell Institute was endowed by a 



n8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

wealthy founder, and lectures have to be delivered in 
it at fixed periods of the year. Then, there is the 
Smithsonian Institution at Washington, the gift of an 
Englishman to the people of the United States, and 
unfortunately partially destroyed by fire a few years 
ago. Lectures on scientific and historic matters are 
given there after the model of those delivered on 
Friday evenings in Albemarle Street, at the Royal 
Institution. In New York there is the Cooper Institute, 
endowed like the Lowell one in Boston. There is no 
Polytechnic, with a Professor Pepper presiding over it 
in the States at present; but there are Lyceums, 
Athenseums, and Literary Societies without end. 
Then, every town has its hall for lectures, cod certs, 
and entertainments. Not dingy little rooms, with 
broken and dirty seats, built over a market place, or 
down a back street, but large, elegant, and well-situ- 
ated buildings, many of them exceedingly capacious, 
and fitted- up with a stage and scenery for the use of 
any travelling dramatic company. In the cities of the 
West, the popular hall is usually on the first or 
second floor, the basement of the building being occu- 
pied by stores. The smallest town will have its hall, 
while in most there are two or three, each being the 
result of private enterprise and not the property of 
the city corporation. 

Churches and chapels are frequently used for 
lecture halls in the Western cities. Even in Brook- 
lyn, the sister city of New York, the celebrated 
Rev. Henry Ward Beecher allows his very large 
church to be hired for political and amusing lectures. 
I remember visiting it one evening to hear the well- 
known Mr, George Francis Train lecture on his travels. 
He spoke from the pulpit, wearing a blue coat with 



GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN. 119 

brass buttons, and was as voluble in his narrative 
of what he had done, seen, and suffered, as he 
was violent in his denunciations of England. 
Though perched up in a pulpit he joked without re- 
straint ; telling funny stories and outrivalling a dozen 
Baron Munchausens in details of adventure, to the in- 
finite delight of the crowded and hilarious con- 
gregation, who applauded, laughed, and cheered the 
veracious lecturer most uproariously. Mr. Train is 
a quotable specimen of the American gentleman of 
universal information to whom I have referred in a 
previous paragraph. On the evening of his lecture in 
Brooklyn, he adverted to the condition of the army of 
China, and having been astonishingly statistical all the 
evening, one of his audience took occasion to interrupt 
him to inquire what was its numerical strength. Mr. 
Train replied without a moment's hesitation, giving the 
number to a unit. Whereupon his interrogator re- 
quested to know the number of guns. 

So many thousand, so many hundred " and five ; 
but two of them are cracked" replied Mr. Train, with 
charming accuracy. Could the whole of the Ordnance 
Department together have answered as rapidly and as 
precisely with regard to the guns of the army of 
Great Britain? 

It is not to be wondered at that the clergyman who 
preaches at the most popular church in Brooklyn — 
Plymouth Church as it is called — should sanction its 
being occasionally let out for amusing lectures. The 
church altogether is conducted on the paying principle, 
and the seats in it are annually put up at public 
auction to the highest bidders. As a lecturer, the 
Rev. Henry Ward Beecher is most eloquent, fas- 
cinating, and humorous, abounding in apt illustra- 



120 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

tion and felicitous anecdote. He lets himself out to 
lecture at so much per night, and being highly attractive, 
receives quite as large an honorarium as Mr. Barnum. 

Political lecturers of high renown, like the Hon- 
ourable Horace Greeley, Mr. Wendell Phillips, or 
Henry Ward Beecher; literary lecturers of cele- 
brity like Mr. George Curtis, Mr. Emerson, Dr. 
Holmes, Mr. E. P. Whipple, and Mr. Saxe, together 
with a few of the more prominent of the professedly 
humorous lecturers, always command their one hun- 
dred dollars per night. Mr. Beecher, I believe, has 
now raised his fee to two hundred dollars. Lecturers 
so well known are in constant request throughout the 
lecture season, and in the Western cities receive 
higher pay than they can obtain in most of the 
Eastern ones. 

Everything in America is managed by agency. 
The Lyceums, which are very much the same in cha- 
racter as our Mechanics'' Institutes or Athenaeums, are 
supplied with lecturers by means of committees and 
agents. The Lyceums of various cities extending over 
a large tract of country band together, form an 
organization, correspond with one another, and appoint 
a central committee, with a manager or agent, whose 
business it is to look up the most attractive lecturers 
and arrange with them for a tour, so arranging that the 
talented gentleman engaged shall not waste time, nor 
be subjected to unnecessary travel, but go on from the 
place at which he lectured on Monday night to the 
town at which he has to display his eloquence on 
Tuesday. The lecturer experiences very little trouble 
except that inseparable from travel. All his arrange- 
ments are made by the society's agent. When he 
arrives at where he is to Tecture, there is sure to be 



TREATING A LECTURER. 121 

a committee-man waiting to receive him, and when he 
has finished his lecture and received his fee, he will 
be either escorted to his hotel by some of the chief 
members of the Lyceum, or invited to sup and sleep 
at a private home, where he will be regarded as a lion 
and treated more as a member of the family than as 
a stranger. 

Samaritans, however, are not always found among 
lecture committees, or if Samaritan in their intentions 
they do not carry out those intentions agreeably. 
Some six years ago I accompanied a popular lecturer 
to a lecture in the large schoolroom of a church not 
far from the city of New York. The time of year was 
mid-winter, the night was bitter cold, snow was on the 
ground, frozen into sharp little spiculse of ice, the stars 
were steel-like in their frosty splendour, and the wind 
seemed to be disposed to stab wherever it could strike. 
My friend the lecturer hoped to find some warm refresh- 
ment when he arrived at the schoolroom. There was 
water only. When the lecture was over, we were in- 
vited by the gentleman who paid the fee, to go across 
to his house, be introduced to his family, and partake 
of something to eat and drink. Visions of a large fire 
and a hot supper were before us as we hastened 
shiveringly across the road. Our host ushered us 
into a library where there was no fire, and invited us 
to admire the splendid binding of the volumes in his 
very elegant bookcases while he left us to order the 
repast. Freezingly we waited. When the good 
things did arrive, accompanied by the family, we found 
our appointed supper to consist of a plate of apples 
and a jug of cold cider ! The gentleman was a vege- 
tarian and a philosopher. 

W T ithin the last few years a successful attempt has 



122 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

been made in New York to organize a central agency 
on a large scale for the supply of lecturers all over the 
United States. It is entitled " The American 
Literary Bureau/' and has its office in Nassau-street, 
in the neighbourhood, where all the newspapers are 
published. In one of its prospectuses the following 
business-like statement is made : — 

(( In enlarging the field of operations, it is proposed 
to introduce the principle of co-operation, as calculated 
to be of essential service to lyceums. By that system 
the hundreds of lecture-committees in the Eastern, 
Central, and Southern States will be enabled to obtain 
the best talent at the lowest rates ; they will also 
secure a higher average of lectures. Other benefits 
will follow upon the plan, and Lyceums cannot further 
their own interests better than by putting themselves 
into immediate correspondence with the Bureau, when 
all necessary explanations will be made in full. Lec- 
turers will readily perceive that their interests will not 
less be subserved by our system, and we invite all who 
have not already registered their names on our books 
to do so at once. Address to American Literary 
Bureau, P.O. Box 6701." 

Since issuing the prospectus from which I have 
quoted, the Bureau has extended its operations, and 
under the superintendence of its energetic manager, 
Mr. James K. Medbery, has pushed its operations to 
the farthest West, and enrolled amongst its members 
a most efficient army of lecturers. Nor has it re- 
stricted its energies to enlisting American lecturers 
only, but has been enterprising enough to secure 
talent from Europe. In a circular recently issued, it 
advertises that it has upon its books the Rev. Prof. 
W. C. Richards, A.M. — <( Terms, 50 dollars and ex- 



THE AMERICAN LITERARY BUREAU. 123 

penses (with modifications). Subject — 'Thomas Hood 
the Humorist and Humanist/ " The Bureau is also 
in possession of " Z. R. Sanford, Esq. Terms, 50 
dollars (with modifications) ; reading and recitation of 
his original poem, ' Fringes/ — The Rev. Robert Laird 
Collier, of Chicago. Terms, 100 dollars. Subject — 
' The Personality of a Poet/ — J. O. Miller, the eloquent 
Orange County Farmer, a highly reputed humorist. 
Terms, 50 dollars (with modifications). Subjects — 
' Model Husband/ ' Model Wife/ " Then it an- 
nounces a gentleman whose " modifications" are stated 
in the advertisement thus — " George M. Beard, M.D. 
Terms, 75 dollars to 30 dollars. Subjects — ' Our 
Crimes against Health f ' Stimulants and Narcotics/ " 
But it is not stated whether the eloquent doctor 
charges 75 dollars for the " Crimes" and 30 dollars for 
the " Stimulants," or vice versa. 

Not content with the purely American element, the 
Bureau notifies that it has on its books Mr. Henry 
Nichols, of London, Mr. William Parsons, of Ireland, 
and Mr. Justin McCarthy, " the editor of the London 
Morning Star," who is prepared to lecture on " The 
Progress of Democratic Ideas in England," " The 
British Parliament," " Goethe, Schiller, and Moliere." 

Nothing can be done in the United States, any 
more so than elsewhere, without the society of the 
ladies. The "American Literary Bureau" therefore 
informs the world that it has at its disposal Miss 
Julia Crouch, of Mystic, Connecticut, and that the 
topic of her lecture is " Wisdom and Folly." No 
price is named for her services, nor any statement 
made or not whether she permits " modifications ;" 
but as she is comparatively new in the market, and 
has not attained that position which warrants her 



124 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

being quoted in the price-list of lecture stock, the 
following extracts from newspapers are appended to 
the advertisement : — 

"Miss Crouch makes a very graceful appearance before an 
audience, with elegant form, full medium height, very fair com- 
plexion, keen, sparkling black eyes, and as sweet a voice as we 
ever heard on any platform." — Norwich Bulletin. 

" She bows gracefully and modestly to her audience, and pro- 
ceeds in a most unexceptionable manner, with elegance of move- 
ment as well as eloquence of utterance." — New London Democrat. 

" She speaks with an agreeable, clear, silvery voice." — Mystic 
Pioneer. 

" We regard her as a successful platform speaker. She has 
received calls as a lyceum lecturer, that will be nattering to 
her talents." — Hartford Post. 

Nothing like the " Bureau"" exists, I believe, in 
this country. Yet why it should not, and why the 
lecturer is not better known and better paid amongst 
us than he is it might be difficult satisfactorily to 
explain. Perhaps we have not come up to the time ; 
perhaps we have passed beyond it. Let a thorough 
system of national education be introduced, and the 
thirst for knowledge would then perhaps cause the 
itinerant higher- class lecturer to be as popular and as 
well rewarded in the towns of Lancashire and York- 
shire, and the villages of Somerset and Devon, as he 
now is on the banks of the Mississippi, or on the 
shores of the great American lakes. 

In devoting so much space to the Lyceum lecture 
system in the United States, I have been actuated by 
two motives : first, to render its peculiarities perfectly 
understood by the reader as distinct from that style 
of lecturing which approximates more closely to the 
calling of the showman ; and secondly, because it was 
with Lyceum committees that Artemus Ward had to 
make some of his earliest arrangements as a lecturer. 



TEE LYCEUM LECTURER. 125 

He who engages himself to the "Bureau/' or who 
lets himself out to Lyceums, has to manage his busi- 
ness in a manner different from that in which he con- 
ducts it if, to use an expressive American phrase, he 
lectures " on his own hook/' Then, unsupported by 
committees, and unassisted by the working members 
of a literary society, he has to fight his own way and rely 
upon his popularity, his business talent, the efficiency 
of his agent, and the excellence of his bills and posters. 

The timid man, he who is indisposed to exertion, 
and he who dreads anything which resembles show- 
manship, will remain passive and thoroughly re- 
spectable in the hands of the committees. He who 
has more daring, more energy, and who cares only to 
make money, no matter what people may have to say 
about his showman's artifice, will " go it on his own 
hook." Perhaps, if the purse of the latter be not too 
heavily laden, or his speculative spirit be not suffi- 
ciently bold, he will dispose of himself to a capitalist 
for a certain time, either for a stipulated sum, or on 
equitable sharing terms. As a rule, in the States the 
lecturers who are simply lecturers fit into the ma- 
chinery of the Lyceums, while those who approach in 
character to entertainers, trust to their own powers of 
management, or share with some one whom they con- 
sider to be capable to manage them. Artemus Ward 
tried in turns each of these three systems. 

A lecturer or entertainer who makes up his mind 
to be his own showman in America, must have no 
compunctions of conscience about puffing himself to 
the world. There must be no hiding his light under 
a bushel, nor any disinclination to work. An agent 
to go ahead and make his arrangements is absolutely 
indispensable. To get a good one is a matter of 



i26 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

difficulty, for the best are always engaged by those 
who know their value. 

Here in England the nature and office of an agent 
to a showman is by no means thoroughly understood. 
There is the same lack of enterprise in the manage- 
ment of a show with us that we develop in many 
other respects. In the United States the agent or 
business manager has, or should have, unlimited 
power to do as he pleases conceded to him by his 
principal. He should be of gentlemanly manner, that 
he may herald his attraction fittingly ; he should be 
a man of tact, that he may make his moves properly ; 
he should be a man of education, so that when he is 
asked in a Western office to sit down and write the 
notice which he desires, he should acquit himself 
skilfully, and in accordance with the polities of the 
paper ; he should understand human nature, so that 
in dealing with people he should accomplish his aims 
with ease, never bore and never disgust. Above all, 
he should be used to the business, know the country 
in which he is travelling, have a constant fund of 
good humour, and a zealous determination to make 
his lecturer or his show successful, no matter what 
difficulties he has to overcome, nor what impediments 
may present themselves. If he knows all the railway 
conductors, so much the better for his trips along the 
rails ; if he is acquainted with all the newspaper 
editors and reporters, so much the more easy for him 
to get hold of the long end of his great lever, the 
press ; and if he is known at all the hotels, and 
friendly with all the hotel clerks, so much superior will 
be his boarding and his lodging, and so much the more 
will he be reckoned up as a specimen of that valuable 
class of people who are said to "know their way about." 



THE AGENT. 127 

There are a few minor accomplishments which it is 
just as well that he should possess. For instance, he 
should be able to take a hand at poker, be a good 
judge of a cigar, and know where to buy the best, 
have a fair knowledge of how to handle a cue, and 
able to drive a buggy. It is also advisable that he 
should have no politics, and be always enthusiastically 
of the same opinion as the company amongst whom 
he happens to be thrown. That which he privately 
thinks, and his ideas on things generally, ac- 
quired during his roving career, he can lay aside 
in the storehouse of his brain until his agency is 
over. 

Having secured his agent, the show-lecturer will be 
careful about the manner and matter of his bills and 
posters. If at all fitted for his vocation, he will un- 
derstand the value of pictures on his bills. The 
advantage of pictorial placards is much better under- 
stood in America than it is here. We are beginning 
to comprehend it in the lithographs, plain and 
coloured, which our theatrical artists and showmen 
cause to be displayed in shop windows. When Mr. 
Sothern came over from the States, he brought with 
him, and did not forget to use, the pictorial style of 
advertising. He was adventurous enough even to 
astonish the Parisians with it in the year of the great 
Paris Exhibition. Mr. Boucicault, arch-priest as he is 
in the Showman's Temple, has always appreciated the 
value of a sensation scene pictorially rendered on his 
show-bills ; while Mr. Toole, in his ideas of the pic- 
turesque in announcements, would almost induce a 
stranger to believe that he had learned his business 
on the other side of the Atlantic, whither he has 
never been. 



128 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Artists of considerable talent, and business firms 
with great resources at their command, undertake the 
production of pictorial bills in America. There are 
some offices, as, for example, Clarry and Reilley's in 
New York, and the Cincinnati Enquirer in Cincinnati, 
that have presses of immense size for pictorial 
printing. Where in England we should have to use 
four sheets of paper to print a large woodcut, at 
the offices I have named they use but one. Our 
u double-crowns" and " double- demies" sufficed for 
America in the days of her youth. When she had 
grown up to be old enough to have territories, the 
paper-makers provided her with a " mammoth " sheet; 
and when she grew to be the owner of California, and 
had gold-mines of her own, they made her a sheet of 
paper larger still, and called it a " mastodon." I am 
told that now the Pacific railway is completed, the 
paper-makers are coming out with a "megatherium." 

The pictorial printing establishment in New York, 
to which I have just referred, is a marvellous place for 
the supply of illustrated mural art. In a vast re- 
pository of racks are stored up engraved woodcuts of 
every possible variety of show. If you are a giant or 
a dwarf, and wish to make a show of yourself, you 
have only to pay a visit to Spruce- street, and you will 
be able to take your choice of an engraved block of 
any kind of dwarf or giant you desire to represent 
yourself to be. There you are drawn and engraved. 
In the process of printing it is very easy to give you 
nationality. Wishing to exhibit yourself as a martial 
giant the printers will print you in blue if you desire 
to be an American, in red if you wish to be British, 
or in a prismatic mixture if you intend to be Asiatic 
in your origin. Perhaps instead of being a giant or 



mm vL 



THE "NORTH STAR." 




From New York to Aspinwall. 



MONTGOMERY STREET, SAN FRANCISCO. 




This is the principal street of San Francisco ; the ground upon which it 



MB. BABNUM. 129 

a dwarf yourself, you are simply a showman and a lec- 
turer. You have a " living skeleton/' an " erudite pig/' 
or a " woolly fish/' which you are anxious to exhibit and 
to lecture upon. In Spruce-street the printers will show 
you in an instant woodcuts of living skeletons 0/ 
every degree of thickness, erudite pigs of every breed 
of swine, and woolly fishes with or without dorsal and 
ventral fins, just as you please. They keep on hand 
professors of conjuring, well cut out in flowing robes 
for the trick of " The bowls of water," and in evening 
dress to illustrate simple tricks with hats and coins. 
They have wood-blocks of horses illustrative of every 
"trick-act" a circus horse was yet known to perform, 
while for the purposes of menageries they possess cuts 
of all the larger animals, including the hippopotamus 
taking its bath, and a monster elephant fanning itself 
with a lady's fan. 

Mr. Barnum set the example, and all showmen in 
the States follow it, to have a lecture explanatory of 
whatever curiosity they may please to exhibit. A 
lecturer or two, able to describe an object of interest, 
and tell a few good stories about it, was always found 
to be of advantage in the Old Museum of New York. 
Perhaps a few peripatetic lecturers exercising their 
vocation at certain times, or on certain days, would 
help to throw a little life into the British Museum in 
London, rendering the collection more interesting to 
visitors, and more useful to the public at large. 
" What ! make a show of it ?" exclaims some good 
old, horror-stricken conservative. Yes, decidedly. It 
is a show. Nine-tenths of its visitors go to see it as 
a show. Amongst its trustees there should be at least 
one good showman. 

Some of Mr. Barnum's exhibitions with lectures, 

K 



i 3 o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

were characteristic of the showman and his show. 
When he could arrange for the curiosity to lecture on 
itself, and be, in a reflected sense, theory and example, 
he seldom omitted to seize the chance. Had he a 
" Lightning Calculator/' he would cause that " Light- 
ning Calculator - " first to lecture on himself, and then 
illustrate his electric powers of arithmetic. Had he 
a " double-voiced" singer, the vocalist with the dual 
gift had first to lecture on his peculiar endowment, 
and then proceed to illustrate it. One of Mr. 
Barnum's happy thoughts in this way, was to catch a 
female spy and cause her to relate her adventures. 
Her name was Miss Cushman — a good and great name 
in the States. She had played the part of a spy in 
one division of the Union Army, and coming to New 
York, offered herself as a curiosity. Engaged by Mr. 
Barnum, she appeared on his stage in the " moral 
lecture room/' After giving a brief lecture on the 
nature and office of the military spy in general, she 
narrated her own adventures in particular. Her pre- 
liminary matter was delivered while she wore very 
pretty and fashionable attire. Then she exhibited 
herself in military disguise, and changed her dress to 
illustrate her exploits. People just then were very 
bellicose in their way of thought, and the lecture by 
a female spy harmonizing well with the times, the 
show became popular.. 

In Boston, Mr. Barnum had an exhibition of 
another sort, in which he employed the services of 
an adventurous lady. The Bostonians had been 
anxious to see a live whale. Mr. Barnum had one 
captured expressly for them. It was a white one, 
and not so large as to be unmanageable. An ex- 
tensive glass tank was built up for it in the exhibition 



BARNUM'S LIVE WHALE. 131 

room ; the tank being filled with sea-water pumped 
up from Boston Harbour. The whale made a pretty- 
sight from the gallery around the hall, whence the 
visitor could look down upon the tank and see the 
creature take its circular swim by way of exercise, 
An interesting lecture on the whale was easily con- 
cocted, but every school-girl knew as much about 
whales as the lecturer did. Hence something more 
was desirable to give interest. It required genius to 
find that something. 

Mr. Barnum found it. Attach a car to the whale, 
harness the whale to the car. Dress up a pretty 
woman as a nymph or sea-goddess, and do circus 
business inside the tank. That was the idea which 
struck the mind of the whale's owner, and the idea 
which he fully carried out. Unfortunately, the whale 
became disgusted with being subjected to so much 
degradation, and ingloriously died, committing suicide 
by eating some broken glass. 

The. show lecturer and the Lyceum lecturer are 
usually gentlemen of very different temperament. He 
who adheres strictly to the orthodox proprieties of the 
rostrum, and who exalts the didactic as being far 
above the entertaining, is, as a matter of course, less 
jovial and more saturnine than the lecturer who is not 
afraid of being heralded with a picture poster, whose 
aim is solely to make money, and who thoroughly 
believes in the world's thirst for knowledge being 
subordinate to its hunger for enjoyment. 

Before he adopted the profession of a lecturer 
himself, Artemus Ward amusingly caricatured a 
species of the didactic order of lecturers not un- 
commonly met with on the Western Continent. The 
burlesque is so apt as to merit quotation : — 

k 2 



i 3 2 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" Poplar Lecturs as thay air kalled, in my pinion 
air poplar humbugs. Individooals, who git hard up 
embark in the lecturin' bizniss. Thay cram thair- 
selves with hi soundin frazis, frizzle up their hare, git 
trusted for a soot of black close and cum out to lectur 
at 50 dollers a pop. Thay haint over stockt with 
branes, but thay hav brass enuff to make suffishunt 
kettles to bile all the soap that will be required by 
the ensooin sixteen ginerashuns. Peple flock to heer 
um in krowds. The men go becawz it's poplar and 
the wimin folks go to see what other wimin folks 
have on. When its over the lecturer goze and regales 
hisself with oysters and sich, while the people say, 
' What a charming lectur that air was/ etsettery, et- 
settery, when 9 out of 10 of um don't have no moore 
idee of what the lecturer sed than my kangaroo has 
of the sevunth speer of hevun." 



CLINTON HALL. 133 



CHAPTER IX. 

NEW YORK BABES IN THE WOOD AT CLINTON 

HALL. 

CLINTON HALL, New York, has been the test- 
ground for many an ambitious young lecturer. 
Some of the most talented and best qualified lecturers 
of America have spoken therein. Some of the very 
worst have spoken there also. It is not a very grand 
place, nor is it a remarkably cheerful one. 

It was in Clinton Hall, on the 23rd of December, 
1 86 1, that Artemus Ward, having already made his 
position in New York as an author, endeavoured to 
ascertain his popularity as a lecturer. 

The hall stands upon memorable ground. It occu- 
pies a portion of the site of the old Astor Place Opera 
House, the scene of the fatal riot on the occasion of 
Mr. Macready, the tragedian, performing there some 
years ago. On the ruins of the Opera House has 
arisen a large building, which includes within its walls 
Clinton Hall and the Mercantile Library. The neigh- 
bourhood is the very focus of information. Close by 
is the magnificent Astor Library — the great public 
library of reference; not far distant is the Mission 
House, whence America disperses religious knowledge 
over the world ; and very near at hand is the Cooper 
Institute, an admirable establishment, wherein, through 



13* THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the benevolence of its charitable founder, the working 
classes have^ excellent facilities afforded them for self- 
education. 

Singular people have presented themselves before 
the public at the Cooper Institute and in Clinton 
Hall. 

It was in the lecture-room of the Cooper Institute 
that the Davenport Brothers astonished and perplexed 
New York with their ingeniously- contrived mechanical 
Cabinet; and,, in i860, the walls of New York were 
placarded with posters announcing that Miss Adah 
Isaacs Menken would lecture on " The Age of Irre- 
pressibles" in Clinton Hall. 

Poor Artemus Ward used to shiver when reference 
was- made to his own appearance at Clinton Hall. 
How he came to lecture there may be briefly told. 

While writing for the newspaper in Cleveland, the 
hard-worked young reporter was called upon in the 
course of his duties to visit the different exhibitions 
which chanced to come into the town, and to attend 
the performances of the various nigger-bands, circuses, 
and itinerant entertainers. He noticed the peculiarity 
of humour which seemed most to please the public, 
made notes of the characteristics of the several enter- 
tainers, and was observant of what an audience re- 
quires in order to be amused, and what it is in an 
entertainment that is superfluous or simply wearisome. 
He readily perceived how much vitality there is in a 
good old jest, and how a venerable joke, if properly 
retailed by " Mr. Merryman" in the ring, or by 
" Bones" upon the minstrel platform, still retains its 
power of raising a hearty laugh. And more than 
this, he listened to some of his own humorous fancies, 
that had done duty in the newspaper for which they 



THE COMIC LECTURER. 135 

were originally written and in fifty other papers into 
which they had been copied, served up again by the 
clown or the wandering jester, and received with 
acclamation by hilarious crowds. Having thus heard, 
seen, and noticed, he went home and reflected. 

To make jests for the printer brought but poor pay. 
Besides, the printer required the jest of to-day to be 
different from the one of yesterday, and he would 
want a new one altogether on the morrow. 

The viva voce diffuser of jokes received good pay. 
A limited stock-in-trade sufficed, and the brain-work 
was comparatively slight. That which passed current 
as a good thing in the town visited yesterday could be 
re-uttered in the town stopped at to-day, and could be 
used for the delectation of the multitude every day for 
the next year to come. 

Of such nature were the reflections which stimu- 
lated Artemus Ward to be a lecturer. He desired to 
accumulate money not only that he might see the 
world and better his own position, but also that he 
might secure to his mother the old homestead in 
Maine, and aid those whom he most loved. News- 
paper work was not likely to produce him affluence, 
nor even sufficient means to carry out his most 
moderate ambition. But, to start in life as a comic 
lecturer, and achieve success in the new calling, was 
to effect that which in a land like America offered 
every prospect of eventually realizing a competency. 

Poor Artemus was acquainted with many of his 
literary brethren who possessed great talent, but made 
little money. He was also familiar with showmen 
innumerable whose intellectual gifts were few, but 
who could load their caravans with golden dollars and 
paper the inside of their shows with bank-notes. . His 



136 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

experiences as an amateur did not inspire him with a 
wish to adopt the stage as a profession, any more than 
did his lack of musical ability prompt him to become 
a concert-giver. As a comic lecturer he thought that 
he might succeed ; and he thought so with increased 
belief, the more that he was assured by many of his 
friends that the idea was a happy one, and one which 
he should lose no time in carrying out. 

But all the friends of the ambitious young reporter 
were not equally as encouraging. There were sure to 
be some amongst those immediately around him who 
were disposed to act the part of the wet blanket, ready 
to quench the fire of energy, and say, " Don't do it, 
you will certainly fail.'" What man of enterprise has 
ever lacked that order of friends ? America does not 
produce them as plentifully as do some older countries, 
but they are indigenous to every soil ; and too fre- 
quently where they think they act the serviceable part 
of the break to the train, are only the log of wood 
placed across the rails to throw the locomotive off 
the track. 

In some prefatory notes prefixed to the little 
volume in which Artemus Ward's Lecture on the 
Mormons has been printed, I have briefly detailed a 
conversation I had with the lecturer himself in Cleve- 
land, relative to his first attempt at composing a 
humorous lecture. The idea of becoming a public 
entertainer had taken possession of his mind, and the 
nature of the entertainment he should give had been 
made matter of study. From time to time he had 
jotted down on slips of paper things that he had 
heard, and quaint fancies as they had suggested them- 
selves, with the intent of working up the whole into 
an entertainment. One day he chanced to go out, 



HIS COMIC LECTURE! 137 

and leave his slips of paper on his desk. Mr. Gray, 
the proprietor of the paper, happened to notice them, 
and perceiving their peculiarity, inquired for what 
they were intended, and in what way they were to be 
used in the columns of the Plaindealer. The 
gentlemen in the office could not inform him. 
Artemus himself was therefore appealed to for 
information. 

" Those slips are notes for my comic lecture," was 
his reply. 

His comic lecture ! 

That the " city editor" should turn lecturer seemed 
beyond the belief of his interrogator, who, when 
assured that the assertion had been made in all 
gravity, and that the intention was seriously enter- 
tained, burst into laughter. 

" They laughed at me, and called me ' a fool/ * 
said Artemus, relating the circumstance to me some 
years after, in the course of an evening ramble 
through the town in which it had occurred four or 
five years previously. 

When a man believes that he sees his way clearly 
before him, and has even a moderate amount of self- 
reliance in his character, laughter is not very likely 
to stop him from journeying on the road which he 
has chosen, and take another path, however much it 
may cause him to halt, and be a little more anxious to 
read the finger-posts correctly. Artemus allowed 
those who laughed at him to remain behind in Cleve- 
land, while he, with the idea of the comic lecture 
germinating in his brain, went on to New York. 

Stimulating in the extreme to the mind of the 
emulative man who has not met with many great 
rebuffs from Fortune, is the air of a great city. To 



138 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

him who has ventured much, and been defeated often, 
it is air that is full of noxious vapour — an atmosphere 
with the density of carbonic acid and a pressure 
which no barometer can measure ; but to the sanguine 
and the fortunate, to him who has friends to 
cheer, hope to inspirit, and unchecked courage to 
sustain him, the air which plays around multitu- 
dinous chimney-pots, and vibrates incessantly with 
the hum of labour, the roar of the Bourse, and the 
clash of contending citizens, is invigorating, bracing, 
and full of food to ambition and to energy. To the 
wearied and the disappointed it is an air which 
withers like the blast of the Sirocco. To him who 
feels assured that with exertion he can win his way, 
it is air which seems to be meat, drink, and life itself, 
like the breezes I have felt blow around me on the 
hill-tops of Australia and on the grand mountains of 
Oregon. 

" Going out gunning in the country is all very well, 
and makes a man feel good," remarked to me one of 
the editors of a Milwaukie paper, who was fond of 
using long words. "But I like to get back into 
the city among people; that's what refocillates me 
most/ - ' 

In the great city of New York, Artemus Ward 
found himself surrounded by those who were more 
disposed to stimulate than to discourage. Down at 
PfafFs cellar the young Bohemians, who were positive 
in their knowledge, and the old Bohemians, who were 
oracular in their wisdom, alike told him that he had 
only to turn comic lecturer in order to make a 
fortune. As to the matter of the lecture, and the 
order of its arrangement, there was considerable dif- 
ference of opinion. Some offered to suggest the 



MY SEVEN GRANDMOTHERS. 139 

subjects to be treated on ; while others, kinder still, 
obligingly tendered to write the whole lecture. But 
Artemus had his own opinions. 

Among various schemes which had suggested them- 
selves to him was that of a string of jests combined 
with a stream of satire, the whole being as uncon- 
nected, and one jest having as little relation to 
another, as the articles in any number of a comic 
periodical. He could not distort his countenance for 
the impersonation of character, like Dr. Valentine 
had done, or as Winchell or Alfred Burnett did. He 
had not the pulpit prestige of Mr. Beecher, nor the 
Maine Liquor Law background of Mr. Gough. He 
had no panorama, nor anything to exhibit but himself; 
therefore, to become a humorous lecturer with simply 
humour, fun, and satire blended together to form the 
basis of his entertainment, appeared to him to be that 
for which he was most fitting, and that which would 
best suit the public. The lecture was put together 
with great care and with studied incoherency in some 
of its details. A burlesque upon a lecture rather than 
a lecture in the accepted meaning of the term was 
precisely that which it amounted to. Then came the 
great difficulty — what should be its title ? 

(t I first thought of calling it My Seven Grand- 
mothers/' said he, in reply to my inquiry of how it 
was he came to choose the title at length deter- 
mined upon. 

There was nothing whatever in the lecture about 
" Seven Grandmothers ;" but the title seemed a droll 
one. The young lecturer had studied the showman's 
art long enough to know how much there is in a 
name. At the suggestion of a friend, and not able 
to think of anything better at the time, he ultimately 



140 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

concluded to entitle his lecture, The Babes in the 
Wood; and with the borrowed name of the well-known 
story which has charmed so many children, and 
formed the groundwork of so many pantomimes, the 
lecture was introduced to the public. 

Prominently brilliant among the group of bright 
young men who at that time occasionally illumined 
the gloom of the vault under the street down at Pfaff's 
was Mr. Frank Wood. He was one of the contribu- 
tors to Vanity Fair, and one who to considerable 
literary talent added the qualifications of a most fasci- 
nating manner and a sympathetic, amiable disposition. 
Artemus Ward and Frank Wood became great friends. 
Artemus required a nurse for his " Babes in the 
Wood," in the form of an agent, who should pioneer 
the way and attend to the business affairs. Frank 
Wood offered himself in that capacity, and strongly 
urged his friend to let him start off and engage 
Clinton Hall for the experimental attempt at lec- 
turing. To this Artemus would not agree. He 
wished to try the country first. Outlying the neigh- 
bourhood of New York are numerous small towns, 
each having its lecture-hall, its literary institute, and 
its share of lecture-loving people. The " Babes" were 
as yet in their cradle, and the idea of Artemus was, 
that during their infancy, and while gaining strength 
to step out of the perambulator and walk alone, it 
would be much better to train them in country air 
than to exercise them in the streets of the metropolis. 
Mr. Frauk Wood consented to the arrangement, and 
the " Babes" were taken for their first airing to the 
small town of Norwich, near New London, in the 
adjacent State of Connecticut. 

Nervous in temperament, and manifesting anxiety 



BABES IN THE WOOD. 141 

in all that lie did, Artemus Ward made his debut 
as a lecturer under strong excitement. I have been 
told by one who heard him that his audience, 
though they laughed immoderately, thronged around 
him when the lecture was over to sympathize with 
him, believing that the purposely odd and dis- 
jointed character of the lecture was the result of in- 
tense nervousness on the part of the lecturer, and 
that in his confusion of thought, he had forgotten to 
tell them anything about the Babes. He had never 
intended to. Therein lay the gist of the great joke 
which constituted the so-called lecture. 

Having made a trip through the rural districts, and 
taken a hasty run out West, the lecturer returned to 
New York, and adopted Mr. Frank Wood's advice to 
try his fortune at Clinton Hall. 

New York is not a city wherein the inhabitants are 
much given to attending lectures. Boston and Phila- 
delphia are far more disposed to yield their patronage 
to him who mounts the rostrum. In New York 
the people prefer the theatre, circus, or museum, 
to the hall in which there is nothing to see, nor any- 
thing but the voice of a lecturer to hear. Tbey love 
excitement, and find no great pleasure in sitting still 
to be talked to for an hour together, unless the 
speaker is a man of very great renown, or has some 
remarkable eccentricity combined with his powers of 
eloquence. Such being the character of the people of 
New York, neither Artemus Ward nor his agent had 
any good reason to anticipate great financial re- 
sults from the experiment they were about to make. 
Something better than did result they certainly 
expected. 

The lecture was well advertised, and the poster on 



i 4 2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the walls was quaint and striking. The latter con- 
tained very few words, but they were displayed in 
large roughly-formed white letters on a black ground, 
and underneath them a printed slip informed the passer- 
by where the event was to take place and the time of 
opening the doors. Throughout his lecturing career, 
down to the last week of his delivering a lecture in 
London, Artemus Ward used that same form of poster. 
The following is a copy on a very reduced scale : — 



AETEMUS 


WAKD 


WILL 




SPEAK A 


PIECE. 



Every boy and girl who looked at the bill knew 
that the notification conveyed by it was to the effect 
that a recitation was to be delivered, or an oration 
made. Just as in England we use the phrase 
u Christmas-piece" to express something intended to 
be read or recited at Christmas, so to " Speak a 
Piece"" means, in the phraseology of New England, to 
deliver orally something in prose or poetry, either as a 
lesson or by way of amusement. It is a favourite 
mode of expression with children, and for that reason 
seemed to harmonize admirably with the idea of the 
?. Babes in the Wood. - " Wherever it was seen posted 
on the walls, in the various towns of the United States, 
it invariably succeeded in attracting attention, eliciting 
a smile, and in causing the reader to be aware that the 
lecture to which it referred was intended to be quaintly 
humorous. 

The night of the twenty-third of December came 



SPEAKING A PIECE. r 43 

about, and the doors of Clinton Hall when opened 
had to be half-closed again immediately, for snow 
and rain were descending together in a mixed 
shower, and a fierce wind drove the sleet into the 
entry and numbed the fingers of the money-taker, 
who sat waiting for the crowd which resolutely 
refused to come. The poor " Babes," though 
young in their career, already experienced the 
melancholy fate assigned to them in the ballad. 
" Frank Wood was one babe and I was the other," 
said Artemus, referring to that night of disappoint- 
ment — 

" These pretty babes, with hand in hand, 
Went wandering up and down, 
But never more could see the man 
Approaching from the town." 

There were a few faithful friends, and a few daunt- 
less and curiosity-led members of the public, who, re- 
gardless of the pitiless inclemency of the night, ven- 
tured to make their way through the storm. The 
lecture was given, and thoroughly enjoyed by the 
scanty audience. When the lecturer and his agent 
came to make up the accounts the next day, the 
pecuniary loss amounted to a little more than thirty 
dollars. It w r as the first and the last lecture which 
Artemus Ward gave in Clinton Hall. But the snow- 
storm alone was to blame. 

New York can do well in the way of snew-storms 
occasionally. And the pride which a patriotic Ameri- 
can can manifest in the snowy capabilities of his 
country is well illustrated by the story of the " Down- 
Eastern" youth who was shown in England a picture 
of a snowy landscape painted by a Royal Academician. 
" I guess that's not much like our snow/'' said he. 



/ 



.'144 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" Our snow is whiter and thicker, and colder-looking, 
and a deal more snowy than that." 

" But do not you consider the snow excellently 
painted ?" observed the exhibitor of the picture. 

" Painted \" replied the American with disgust. 
f ' Do you call that painted ? I hev a brother who is 
an artist tu home, and he painted a snow-picture so 
natural, sir, that my sister-in-law left her little baby 
a-sleeping in the cradle close by it, and when she got 
back to the room, the child was frozen to death. Our 
snow's too cold to bear painting. No sir, nohow." 



EMBALMING THE BEAD. 145 



CHAPTER X. 

WASHINGTON AND PHILADELPHIA AN EM- 

BALMER'S WORKSHOP SIXTY MINUTES OF 

AFRICA IN THE CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 

« rFHE Beautiful Art of Embalming the Dead taught 
in Six Lessons." — That among other strange 
announcements attracted my attention as I hurried 
into Washington on business one day during the 
war. The ghastly oddity of the notice struck me 
forcibly ; but Washington was full of horrors 
just then, and there were other public intimations 
quite as startling. My engagements took me to 
Willard's Hotel, where the military element was so 
strongly represented, that the house I had pre- j 
viously known as the most fashionable hotel in the I 
city had become more like a barracks than an hotel. * 
Soldiers were thronging round the doorway, officers'" 
in blue uniform and wearing cocked hats were parad- 
ing themselves in the passages, and the clank of 
military heels resounded through the various rooms on 
the basement floor. Troops were departing down the 
Potomac by steamer, to be landed at Aquia Creek, 
and detachment after detachment was being sent 
across the Long Bridge to see service on the fields of 
Virginia. Washington was a scene of confusion, ex- 
citement, dissipation, and uproar. Never at any time 

L 



146 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the most delightful of cities, it was just then one of 
the most annoying and most to be avoided. 

The hotel- clerk at Willard's knew me. "When I 
asked him to be accommodated with a bed, he apolo- 
gized for not being able to offer me anything better, 
and told me that there was only one to spare, but that 
it was in a room where there were seventeen others. 
I went to look at it. There was a soldier in a state 
of mad intoxication on the bed next to the one that I 
could have. I declined the offer, and made up my 
mind to seek rest elsewhere. Passing out of the 
hotel, I was roughly pushed against a gentleman who 
was just entering. As our faces met I recognized an 
old acquaintance, whom I had last seen in New York, 
and who was then practising the profession of a 
dentist. Before he took to dentistry he had been a 
showman, and had managed very successfully a thea- 
trical company. 

" What are you doing in Washington ? " I asked, 
after the first few words of recognition had been 
spoken. " Have you come down to set the edge of 
the soldiers' teeth before going to battle, that they 
may have no trouble in biting cartridges ?" 

11 No. I have given up dentist work for a time," 
was his reply. " I am an embalmer/'' 

" And have you an establishment in Washington ?"" 

"Yes, come and see me. My place is on the 
Avenue. Here is my card/'' 

He gave it me, and I read " Br. Charles Brown, 
Embalmer of the Dead. Office, Pennsylvania Avenue, 
Washington, D.C." I had my lodgings for the night 
to look after before doing any thing else. So taking 
the card I promised to call and see the doctor on 
the following day. 



DR. BROWN AT WORK. 147 

Next morning, having transacted the business 
which had taken me to Washington, I strolled up 
Pennsylvania Avenue in search of the embalming 
establishment. I found it to be on the right side of 
the road going up towards the Capitol. The purpose 
to which it was devoted was advertised by means of a 
sign painted in very large letters. Some men were 
taking in the body of a dead soldier as I arrived. 

Dr. Brown being within, I readily obtained admis- 
sion. There was a large apartment on the level of 
the street, the windows of which were so obscured as 
to baulk the curious gaze of the world without. At 
one time the apartment had apparently been used for 
a store-room. But at the period of my visit it was 
turned into a workshop, where the artists of death 
were busily employed. Placed on tressels in various 
parts of the room were the bodies of eleven soldiers, 
some already embalmed and others waiting for the 
doctor to commence or complete the process. Business 
was brisk with the doctor, and Virginia was yielding 
him a plentiful harvest. 

In the United States it is a common and a loving 
desire to wish to preserve the body of a dead relative or 
friend, that it may be inspected months or years after 
death. Americans resemble the old Egyptians rather 
than the ancient Romans in preferring the mummy to 
the cinerulent urn. Even at home in their great 
cities, when death comes among them, it is customary 
to call in the services of the embalmer. In the ceme- 
teries of Greenwood and of Mount Auburn there are 
many silent inhabitants resting on stone shelves, their 
faces still visible and wearing something like the look 
of life, though the bunches of flowers placed upon 
their breasts have long since faded into little heaps of 

l z 



148 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

brown vegetable matter. During the war, brave sons 
fell in battle, and heroic husbands left the soft 
delights of home to uphold their flag on the contested 
field, and there met their death : fond mothers and 
heartbroken wives wished to see the faces of those 
they had loved and lost — wished the dead body to 
be sent to them a thousand miles away — wished to 
show their children once again the features of him 
who had once made home so happy. To them the 
embalmer stepped kindly in, as the last friend whom 
Death had left them to appeal to, as one who was 
more kindly than the grave-digger and more consola- 
tory at the moment than even the priest. Hence the 
reason of the strange signs in the city of Wash- 
ington. 

The doctor was appropriately dressed for his busi- 
ness. His assistants were around him. He had just 
completed the injection of a body recently brought 
to him to be preserved, and was contemplating his 
work with satisfaction. 

" This is very different to being a showman, 
and far more unpleasant/'' I remarked. " How 
came you to take up with so strange an occu- 
pation ?" 

"It is my patent/" he replied. "The process is 
the new French one. I went to Paris. Got it there. 
Have patented it for the States. I have another esta- 
blishment in the West, and I grant licences for the 
use of the invention. See/' said he, showing me a 
figure which appeared to be life-like, the face having 
been carefully painted, and glass eyes having replaced 
those which death had made dim for ever ; " See ! 
here is a sample of my process. The flesh is almost 
as hard as stone. Listen I" 



FLESH LIKE STONE. 149 

He tapped the neck of the embalmed body very 
lightly with the handle of a paint-brush. The flesh 
was firm and resonant. 

"Your establishment is very well situated on the 
Avenue/'' I observed. " But it is rather noisy. What 
is that noise overhead?" 

" Oh, they have a German dancing-room up over 
me, and they are giving a few lessons. The noise 
you hear at the side and underneath comes from the 
printing- offices, where they are rolling off the evening 
paper." 

Thus was death wedged in between life in the 
Washington of half-a-dozen years ago. Neither Dr. 
Brown nor his assistants seemed to be struck with* 
the horribly grotesque situation of their place of 
work. They worked as artists, and regarded the re- 
sult of their work with similar satisfaction to that 
with which a painter surveys his finished picture, or a 
sculptor examines his completed statue. If the doctor 
remembered his Horace, Debemur morti nos nostraque 
must have been a quotation which now and then 
occurred to his mind. 

Having seen all that the doctor had to show me, I 
said to him — 

u The Browns seem to me to be a very singular 
race. They follow eccentric pursuits. There is 
Artemus Ward, who represents himself to have been 
a showman like you. I understand that his proper 
name is also Browne. Is he any relative ?" 

" None whatever," replied the doctor. " He is a 
very clever fellow though. As I passed through Phila- 
delphia yesterday I noticed that he is to lecture there 
this evening. If you are going to New York, you 
should stop on your way and hear him." 



150 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The opportunity was one for which I had waited. 
Since I had last seen Artemus Ward in Louisville, 
about eighteen months previously, I had read and 
heard of the great reputation he had acquired as a 
humorous lecturer; but though I much wished "to 
listen to him, no chance had offered itself for my so 
doing. In Dr. Brown's establishment I found a gen- 
tleman who also wished to gratify a similar curiosity. 
We arranged to go to Philadelphia together. 

The train was delayed on its way from Baltimore. 
When we arrived at the Musical Fund Hall in 
Locust-street, where the lecture was to be given, 
we found the hall to be already crowded. Every 
seat was occupied, and there was that descrip- 
tion of standing-room left which has been defined 
as no place for standing. Thanks to the courtesy 
of Mr. Beckett, the keeper of the hall, we were 
politely conducted into a recess on one side of the 
platform, where through an opening we could hear 
very well, and have a full view of the faces of the 
audience, together with a side view of the face of the 
lecturer. 

Artemus Ward had just stepped out on the plat- 
form. A tall, thin, gentlemanly-looking young man, 
with light-coloured flowing hair. He wore a black 
coat, such as in this country we wear in the morning, 
but which in the States passes as dress; his waistcoat 
was a white one, and in his hand he carried a roll of 
white paper, which he twitched nervously in the 
course of his lecture. The subject of the lecture, 
according to the bills, was Sixty Minutes in Africa; 
but the matter of the discourse, as I afterwards ascer- 
tained, was pretty much the same as that of the Babes 
in the Woody only that in Philadelphia, the abolition 



SIXTY MINUTES IN AFRICA. 151 

of slavery being a favourite topic, anything about 
Africa was likely to be acceptable. Besides, the 
Babes had already visited Philadelphia, and Artemus 
was careful not to take them twice to the same place, 
unless specially desired, 

In the book to which I have already referred, " The 
Lecture on the Mormons," I have detailed the charac- 
teristics of Artemus Ward's style of lecturing, and 
given a sample of the matter of which it was com- 
posed. Any one of his lectures, previous to the deli- 
very of the Mormon one, was simply a heterogeneous 
collection of jests, interspersed with dry, witty, telling 
observations on the fashions and follies of mankind, 
and pleasantly wrapped-up sarcasms on the social and 
political topics of the day. The humour of the lec- 
ture was more in the man than in his matter — his 
manner of saying a funny thing was infinitely more 
funny than the thing itself. Yet his lecture was a 
grand display of mental fireworks, corruscation suc- 
ceeding corruscation, and rocket-flight following 
rocket-flight, without giving his audience time to 
think or to count the number of pieces. While 
people listened they laughed. When all was over 
they wondered what it had been which they had lis- 
tened to. When the next morning came about they 
remembered several of the good things and laughed at 
them again. 

The lecture that evening at the Musical Fund 
Hall was illustrated by a map of Africa, suspended at 
the back of the platform. Except in the way of bur- 
lesque the map was useless. The lecturer commenced 
by telling his audience that his subject was Africa, 
and alluding to some of the natural productions of 
that country. When he told them that it produced 



152 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" the red rose, the white rose, and the neg-roes," they 
yelled with laughter. When he informed them that 
in the middle of the continent there was what was 
called " a howling wilderness/' but that for his part 
he had never heard it howl nor met with any 
one who had, the audience shouted approbation ; 
and when he told them that he believed the 
African to be his brother, but was not so fond 
of him as to believe him to be his sister, wife, and 
grandmother as well, the political feelings of the 
good Philadelphians were roused, and while the demo- 
crats laughed uproariously, the republicans enjoyed 
the joke with a dubious smile. All that the lecturer 
said was spoken by him as though it fell from his lips 
without premeditation ; but from the position in the 
hall which I chanced to occupy, I could notice that 
his eyes were keenly fixed upon his audience, and that 
he carefully watched the manner in which every sen- 
tence was received. Never once did he allow his 
countenance to relax from its continuous grave ex- 
pression. Instead of joining in the laughter he had 
elicited, he seemed to wonder whence it had arisen, 
and to be slightly annoyed that he could not speak 
without being laughed at. Some of his audience 
entered into the spirit of the affair, and were bois- 
terously merry. Others attempted to be critical, but 
occasionally manifested their vexation at not being 
able to grasp anything which they could criticise, and 
some there were who simply regarded the speaker as 
a lunatic, and seemed ashamed that they had caught 
themselves laughing at him like the rest. 

There were nearly two thousand people in the hall, 
the heat was oppressive, and the merriest of the 
audience began to feel that ceaseless laughter was very 



WE MEET AGAIN. 153 

hard work. Artemus Ward perceived that lie had 
spoken long enough ; and having just told a funny- 
story, the scene of which was in Massachusetts, sud- 
denly changed his tone of voice and said — 

a Africa is my subject. You wish me to tell you 
something about Africa. Africa is on the map. It 
is on all the maps of Africa that I have ever seen. 
You may buy a good map of Africa for a dollar. If 
you study it well, you will know more about Africa 
than I do. It is a comprehensive subject — too vast, I 
assure you, for me to enter upon to-night. You 

would not wish me to 1 feel that — I feel it deeply, 

and I am very sensitive. If you go home and go to 

bed it will be better for you than to go with me to 

Africa !" 

Thus abruptly, and without any further peroration, 
the lecture was brought to a conclusion. When it 
was over I sought an interview with the lecturer in 
his dressing-room, and reminded him of our last 
meeting, far away in Kentucky. Recognition was im- 
mediate, and reception cordial. 

" Come home with me to my room at the Conti- 
nental," said Artemus. 

I accepted the invitation and went, two or three of 
the lecturer's friends accompanying us. We had not 
been long in conversation when half-a-dozen young 
men entered the room and saluted the host fami- 
liarly. 

" Glad to see you, boys ! Sit down — take some 
Bourbon," said Artemus. " I hope you have had as 
good a house this evening as I have had." 

" Pretty good," was the reply. " But we didn't 
have many clergymen. You must have had the 
best of us in the best seats, as the people in the 



154 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

gallery said, when the hankey-pankey fellow threw 
all the bon-bons out of the hat to upper-tendom 
in the dress circle, and flung them the wrapping- 
paper." 

Our little party in the small room on the fourth or 
fifth floor of the Continental Hotel, soon became con- 
vivial. In a very few minutes I ascertained that the 
last arrivals were the principal members of Carncross 
and Dixey's Minstrel Company. A negro minstrel 
organization as famous in Philadelphia as that of the 
Bryants was in New York, or that of Morris, Pell, 
and Trowbridge in Boston. 

The gentlemen of the minstrel company were well- 
known to Artemus Ward. Their entertainment had 
often afforded him amusement, while his jokes had 
largely assisted them in amusing the public. One of the 
number had been present at the Musical Fund Hall that 
evening, to take notes of anything new in the lecture 
admitting of being dovetailed into the minstrel enter- 
tainment. 

Anxious to meet Artemus, the minstrels had left 
their own establishment in haste. One of them in 
his hurry had failed to wash from his face all traces 
of the burnt-cork colouring he had worn during the 
concert. His friends noticed the omission, and some 
little banter passed. As the professional gentleman 
wiped away the black marks, he remarked to his 
host — 

" I am as bad as Mr. B was, when being 

thanked by Queen Victoria." 

Anything about Queen Victoria being very interest- 
ing on the other side of the Atlantic, the gentleman 
was asked to explain. 

" I was once in the company of the H 



A STORY OF TEE STAGE. 155 

Theatre/' said he. " Mr. B was the manager. 

The play was The Wicked Wife. Queen Victoria was 
present. The manager had to see her Majesty out of 
the box ; and his stage-manager advised him to hurry 
up with his washing, lose no time, and be ready to 

bow her Majesty to her carriage. Mr. B is a 

little hard of hearing. He made haste, and was 
rubbing his eyes dry when he met the queen coming 

out of her box. ' Ah ! Mr. B / said her 

Majesty, ' I see that this beautiful piece has made 
you cry, as it has me. I have been to see it four 
times/ The manager did not catch the words. 
' Your Majesty/ said he — ' what did you please to 
remark ?' ( I said that it is a very beautiful piece, 
and do not wonder that it made you cry/ ' Yes, 

your Majesty/ replied Mr. B , ' I washed in a 

hurry, and haven't got the soap out of my eyes/ " 

The story was well received. It was one which I 
had not previously heard, and made a note of 
accordingly. 

The gentlemen appeared to be inclined to per- 
sonality in their jests, and one of them accusing the 
other of a want of veracity in his statements, the 
accused retorted on the accuser by saying — 

" You bring to my mind the fellow who went 
stumping the country down South. He made a 
speech, and he told more lies in the course of it than 
there are bricks in Philadelphia. Presently he paused 
and said, ( Now, gentlemen, what do you think V 
f Think/ said one of his audience — f Well, I reckon 
that if you and I were to stump this part of Alabama 
together, we would tell more lies than any other two 
men in the State, sir; and I'd not say a word myself 
during the whole time, sir." 



156 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

Thus pleasantly did the visitors of the evening 
beguile the time. There were some very talented 
artistes among the members of Carneross and Dixey's 
band. Philadelphia has always of late years main- 
tained a good band of minstrels, some of them being 
no less enterprising than humorous. Perhaps one of 
the best performances ever given by minstrels in the 
Quaker City was that wherein they burlesqued a 
famous exploit of which the hero was the well-known 
comedian, Mr. John Brougham. 

Before narrating what Mr. Brougham did, or 
telling how the minstrels burlesqued it, let me explain 
the meaning of the word " Gag" — a most expressive, 
word in the lips of the showman. Used as a noun, 
" a gag" is something added to another thing to give 
it factitious and extrinsic interest ; and used as a verb, 
"to gag" a show is to devise or invent some method 
of raising excitement which shall either be for the 
purpose of starting the show well on its way, or for 
drawing attention to it anew if its interest is diminish- 
ing. The good gag is the showman's happy thoughts 
To the professor of the art of showing, the theory and 
practice of " gagging" are matters of serious study. 
Practised skilfully, so as to whet the appetite of the 
public without cloying it, success is the result. In 
the hands of a bungler there results disgust in the 
mind of the public. 

Mr. John Brougham had for some time been play- 
ing in a favourite piece at New York. His popu- 
larity was very great. He had played the same piece 
at Philadelphia, where also his popularity was assured. 
Philadelphia and New York are nearly as far apart as 
London and Birmingham. Could not Mr. John 
Brougham's celebrity be greatly increased, and con- 



A MINSTREL FEAT. 157 

siderable money made by his playing the same piece 
in both the cities on the same night ? That was the 
« gag" which struck the mind of Mr. Brougham, or 
of his speculative and clever friend, Mr. Jarrett. 
When an American conceives a happy idea he carries 
it into execution immediately, if possible. So the 
two performances were settled upon, advertised, 
" worked-up," and accomplished. The play was 
acted in New York to a crowded house. A ferry- 
boat was waiting to convey actors, actresses, and 
as many of the New York audience as chose to 
accompany them, across the river to Jersey city. 
There, an express train, with many cars attached, re- 
ceived its histrionic cargo of passengers, and at once 
started at full speed through the State of New Jersey 
to Philadelphia. And at Philadelphia the same play 
was again played that had already been performed that 
evening in New York, the same artists performing, 
and among the spectators being many who, not being 
content with having seen the performance in one 
city, had rushed a hundred miles to see it repeated 
in another. 

Always on the look-out for novelty, so good a 
" g a g" was n °t to be lost sight of by the Philadelphian 
minstrels. Forthwith a poster was issued to the 
effect that Mr. John Brougham's feat would be entirely 
eclipsed by the gentlemen of the " burnt-cork opera." 
There are two halls at opposite extremities of Phila- 
delphia. The minstrels pledged themselves to give 
the same performance at both on one and the same 
evening, and to make the journey from one to the 
other, as well as convey as many of the audience as 
were willing to accompany them — in wheelbarrows ! 

A plenteous supply of wheelbarrows was obtained, 



158 THE GENIAL SH0W21AN. 



and the enterprise successfully conducted. Phila- 
delphia, usually one of the most demure, respectable, 
and properly conducted of cities, never swerved more 
from its pleasant routine of dulness than when it 
turned out some thousands of order-loving citizens to 
yell (C Bravo \" to a troupe of artistes, dressed in black, 
their faces being black also, but their shirt collars 
large and white, their musical instruments in their 
hands, and they themselves whirled thiough the town 
at full speed in a score or two of wheelbarrows. The 
gag answered its purpose. One of the wheelbarrows 
was required to take the proceeds to the bank. 

Artemus Ward, and Carncross and Dixey's Min- 
strels, seated in the little room at the Continental 
Hotel, soon became engaged in a warm discussion 
relative to the respective professional merits of the 
sons of Mr. E. P. Christy, the once famous minstrel 
of New York. And now, as I write, gentlemen in 
London are contending as to who has the right to 
the title of Christy Minstrels in this country. None 
of the sons of him who bore the name are, I believe, 
alive at the present time. Not more suggestive of 
melancholy reflection to Hamlet is the tossing up out 
of the grave the skull of poor Yorick, than was it to 
see in a law court of the United States the last 
ghastly jest in which the originator of the Christy's 
figured. In a fit of mental aberration Mr. E. P. 
Christy threw himself out of the window of his 
house. He was not killed by the fall, but lived 
for many weeks, and while so living made a will. 
After his death, the amount of property he left 
being large, that will was contested. It was argued 
that the injury he had sustained by the fall from 
the window had been of a nature to render it 



AT A NEGRO BALL. 159 

impossible that lie should afterwards he of sound 
mind. In his life-time he had often handled dex- 
terously the " bones" with which mock Ethiopians 
are apt to " discourse most eloquent music." After 
his death two of his own bones — the atlas and axis 
of the cervical vertebrse, were tossed across the table 
from lawyer to lawyer in the course of the discussion 
in open court as to whether or not the injuries they 
evidenced were not sufficient to prove that the nervous 
system of the poor minstrel must have been so 
affected as to have rendered him incapable of per- 
forming any legal act or deed. 

" I had a new joke in my lecture to-night/' said 
Artemus, addressing his Philadelphian friends. " If 
George Christy had known I was going to have it he 
would have travelled a hundred miles to borrow it for 
his own. As it is I have no doubt that he will have it 
telegraphed to him to-morrow. But come, gentlemen, 
I hear there is a nigger-ball on to-night. Shall we go V ? 

The suggestion was received with satisfaction. One 
of the company was in possession of a sufficient 
number of tickets of admission, and we started for a 
distant part of the city where the ball was to take 
place. I think that the name of the building was 
Mahogany Hall, but in this I may be mistaken. 

Whether in freedom, or in slavery, the negro race 
are proverbially fond of gaiety, and especially delight 
in dancing. The ball to which we went was given 
by the dark- coloured population of Philadelphia, and 
no white people were admitted unless they were well- 
known to the committee. About a hundred negroes 
and nearly that number of negresses were present 
when we arrived. The coloured gentlemen were 
dressed in evening costume, and seemed for the most 



160 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

part to be waiters from the various hotels. Their 
partners were arrayed in finery of the most glaring 
description. Some of the ladies were attired in white 
muslin, with bright blue ribands of most unnecessary 
length. One lady of very large proportions, and of 
remarkably broad features wore a ruby- coloured dress 
with flounces to it of a gamboge tint ; and there was 
one who had attired herself in bloomer-costume, her 
coat, or outer-dress being of lilac- colour with a gilt 
leathern cincture round her waist, and her pantalettes 
of a pale green hue, terminating in white frills. 
Every lady had a bouquet of enormous size; and 
both ladies and gentlemen bore evidence in the beads 
of moisture on the face to the spirit with which they 
were entering into the enjoyment of the evening. 

For a band, the ball committee had provided six 
instruments, two violins, one double-bass, a flageolet, 
a flute, and a triangle. Perched on an elevation at 
the end of the room was the master of the ceremonies 
calling out the figures of the dance. 

" Ladies chain — Hurry up, ladies. Set and turn 
partners — Gen'elmen what are you 'bout, mind de 
figgers. Fus' couple Vance ! Now retire — "Vance 
again. Now de gen'elmen returns. Lebe lady on 
de left of de op'site gen'elman. De ladies cross to 
op'site sides. Hurry up — hurry up ! Change de 
corners. ■ Gen'elmen pass "'tween de ladies. Now de 
ladies cross. De gen'elmen go back to dare places — 
fus'rate, .bery fus'rate ! Now fus' copple set and 
turn — Good. Now den, all of ye, de last figger V 

The embalming office of Dr. Brown in the morning 
— the negro ball in the evening. In the life of the 
showman, light and shade are often so contrasted ! 



THE CHINESE THEATRE, SAN FRANCISCO. 




CELESTIAL ACTORS AND CONJURERS. 

From Sketches in Artemus Ward's Portfolio. 



A QUAINT TELEGRAM. l6l 



CHAPTER XL 

ACROSS THE CONTINENT A STRANGE TELEGRAM 

THE BABES TRANSFORMED INTO GHOSTS. 

THERE came a message by telegraph three thou- 
sand five hundred miles or thereabouts across the 
American continent. 

On its way that message had passed through the 
mining camps of California, darted over the summit of 
the Sierra Nevada, traversed the region of the silver 
miners, and passed into a little wooden house on one 
side of Main-street, Salt Lake City, where it paused 
for a few minutes to take fresh electric breath, and 
then to start out anew from the city of the Mormons 
to hasten onwards to the city of New York. 

When the telegraph clerk received it at his lonely 
little office in Salt Lake City, he wondered at its 
meaning. Months afterwards he told me that he did. 
His business was to send it onwards. 

Onwards it went, flying over the heights of the 
Rocky Mountains and swooping down upon the 
boundless plains of Colorado and Nebraska. Indians 
attired in furs and feathers, the face painted, the hand 
grasping a spear, looked up at the wires as the mes- 
sage hastened on ; prairie dogs, each standing on his 
own little mound of earth, yelped as the message flew 
by ; and the backwoodsman resting on his axe in the 

M 



i6 2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

newly-felled clearing, amused himself by thinking 
what those wires, of which the wind of the wilder- 
ness was making an iEolian harp, could possibly 
be transmitting from one side of America to the 
other. 

When the message arrived at New York it read 
thus : — 

" Thomas Maguire, Opera House, San Francisco, Cal., 

to 
Art emus Ward, New York City. 

What will you take for forty nights in California ?" 

The verb " to take" has vari jus significations. 
Hence the message required to be carefully studied. 
After giving to it the gravest consideration, Artemus 
Ward returned the following answer : — 

" Artemus Ward, New York City, 

to 

Thomas Maguire, Opera House, San Francisco, Cat. 

Brandy and water." 

Puzzled as the telegraph clerk in Salt Lake City 
was with the message from San Francisco, he was 
still more so with the reply from New York. 
Had the Indians on the plains been able to read 
the message as it flew by them they would have been 
disposed to wonder what sort of a person it was who 
offered to take " fire-water" for forty nights in Cali- 
fornia. But the most puzzled man of all was Mr. 



A FEE FOR FORTY NIGHTS. 163 

Maguire when the answer was brought to him, as he 
stood sunning himself in front of his Opera House. 
The sort of reply he expected was " Ten thousand 
dollars." Then he was perhaps prepared to offer five 
thousand, and afterwards to " split the difference ;" 
but " brandy and water" astounded him. He was 
not quite sure but that it was a sporting phiase un- 
known to him, and signifying a certain sum of money ; 
just as the word " monkey" may mean five hundred 
pounds, and the word " pony" twenty-five pounds 
among the sporting fraternity of England. So 
Mr. Maguire took the message round to his friends 
and asked their interpretation of the mystery. 
Their reply was that it was one of Ward's " goaks/ 1 
and that he undoubtedly did not desire to visit 
California. 

Mr. Maguire's friends were not quite right in 
their guess ; neither were they quite wrong. The 
telegraphic answer was certainly a joke, but Artemus 
Ward was anxious to see the shores of the Pacific. 
Why he returned so absurd a reply to the message was 
simply that he did not wish to engage his services to 
Mr. Maguire, nor anybody else, but to take a trip to 
California on his own account and make money for 
himself. 

Out of Mr. Maguire's perplexity some good came. 
The manager of the Opera House exhibited the strange 
message to his friends, they told the gentlemen of the 
press, who soon constructed it into a paragraph for 
the newspapers. Once in the papers, the inquiry and 
the reply found their way over the continent. And when 
Artemus Ward did visit California, he discovered that 
his telegraphic answer to Mr. Maguire had resulted 
in one of the very best advertisements he could possibly 

m 2 



i6 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

have devised. The joke was precisely of that descrip- 
tion which appealed to the fancy of the gold diggers, 
and to the mirthful spirits of California, Oregon, and 
Nevada. Artemus Ward was voted to be a genial 
showman. 

The receipt of the telegram from San Francisco was 
fully sufficient, even if invitations previously received 
had not been amply indicative, to assure Artemus 
Ward that his fame had travelled beyond the Rocky 
Mountains, and that he had good reason to entertain 
the idea of taking a trip to the gold regions of the 
Pacific. The Babes in the Wood had become a little 
exhausted by travelling in the Atlantic States. They 
required sea air. A sail down to the Isthmus of 
Panama, a skip across the Isthmus, and two weeks of 
pleasant steaming up the Pacific were probably all that 
was needed for their health. After having consulted 
many friends on the subject, Artemus sent a message 
to me, asking me to meet him at the Revere House in 
Broadway, New York. 

" What do you think of my going to California ?" 
he asked, when, responding to his message, I found him 
waiting my arrival. 

My opinion was to the effect that he could not 
pay a visit to any country likely to yield him 
more profit, if he went to it as a lecturer and did 
not stay too long. I had known the Golden State of 
the Union at a time when its mines were easily 
worked, when large nuggets of gold were frequently 
found, when the mining camps were prosperous, and 
when miners spent their money with careless prodi- 
gality. Being well aware that affairs had changed, 
and, that although San Francisco had increased largely 
in wealth and population, the interior of the country 



A MAN WITH FIFTY WIVES. 165 

was not in equally as flourishing condition, I advised 
a brief visit, a rapid march through the State, lectur- 
ing at one town to-night and at another to-morrow 
evening, and a speedy return to New York with the 
dollars resulting from the enterprise. 

Artemus listened to that which I had to say, and 
then desired to know if I would join him in the trip, 
to act as agent and manager. He made various pro- 
posals, and to one of them I readily assented. Thus 
much being arranged, it became a question whether 
we should return by the same route that we intended 
to take in going out, or whether we should come home 
across the plains, and drop in among the Mormons at 
Salt Lake City. 

To this latter proposal there was one great objection. 
We were going to California in the autumn — "the 
fall" as Americans term that season of the year. By 
the time we had visited the various mining towns the 
winter season would have arrived. To cross the 
American desert in winter, and to traverse the Rocky 
Mountains amidst snow and ice, were by no means 
agreeable prospects. I suggested another plan, but 
Artemus was strong in his desire to see Brigham Young. 

" There was a man in the next street to me who 
committed suicide a week ago because he could not 
get on with two wives," said Artemus. " I want to 
see how a man can get along who has fifty." 

I remarked in reply that my curiosity was more ex- 
cited relative to the fifty ladies who lived under the 
dominion of one lord. Finally an arrangement was 
concluded that Artemus Ward and I should come back 
from California by way of Salt Lake, if we found the 
route to be open, practicable, and comparatively free 
from danger at the termination of our visit to the 



166 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAK 

towns of the Pacific coast ; but that if circumstances 
were not favourable to our making the acquaintance 
of the Mormons, we should run up to British Colum- 
bia, return to California, take the steamer again to 
Panama, and pay a flying visit to the West Indies. 
To me the greater part of the ground to be gone over 
was already known; but to my intended companion 
it possessed the charm of novelty, and offered plente- 
ous scope for him to meet with much humorous inci- 
dent as well as to see many strange characters. 

Some forethought was devoted to the preparations 
for the journey, in order that the trip might be pro- 
ductive of pecuniary success. Artemus Ward's pub- 
lisher, Mr. G. W. Carleton of Broadway, undertook 
to publish a book, the materials for which were to be 
collected during our stay among the Mormons. It 
was settled that I should go to California by the 
mail steamer preceding that in which the lecturer 
himself was to make the voyage. I was to take 
with me the requisite posters by the aid of which, 
among other means also to be used, the coming of 
Artemus Ward to the Land of Gold was to be 
made publicly known, and the miners were to be 
informed that he would " Speak a piece " to them 
on his arrival. When Mr. Booth the printer had 
printed the bills and I was seeing them duly packed, 
Artemus observed — 

" I hope you have kept a couple of bills out 
loose V 3 

I told him that I had reserved a dozen to take with 
me in my travelling valise, and intended to have one 
posted at Aspinwall, another at Panama, and one or 
two in the Mexican towns of Acapulco and Mazatlan, 
if the steamer chanced to put in at both. 



AM ADVERTISING IDEA. 167 

" That's all very well/' said Artemus ; " but I want 
you to have two loose in your pocket, with a hammer 
and some nails/' 

" To use where ?" I asked. 

He answered me gravely — 

" When the steamer gets to San Francisco it will 
have to pass through the Golden Gate.* Now I have 
never seen that gate myself; but as you go through 
I want you to stop the steamer, and just nail up 
one of my bills on each side of the gate." 

Besides posters, I was provided with some lithograph 
portraits of the lecturer, and a hundred copies of 
Artemus Ward, His Book. The volumes were nicely 
bound in cloth, and were intended to be used as pre- 
sentation copies to editors, civic functionaries, and 
clergymen. There was a thorough understanding 
between Artemus and myself that the lecturing 
expedition was to be regarded in the light of a 
scheme for making money, and that no feeling of 
delicacy relative to attracting the attention of the 
public by means of extensive advertising was to be 
allowed to stand in the way of doing anything that 
might conduce to popularity and profit. That which 
would not do in steady-going old Boston might 
answer very well in lively and excitable San Fran- 
cisco. 

I notified Artemus, in pleasantry, that if I found 
other means to fail in getting up rapid excitement 
about him in the Californian metropolis, I should 
organize a torchlight procession on the night of his 
arrival. 

" Do it before I arrive/' said he ; " and have a 



* The name of the entrance to the harbour of San Francisco. 



1 68 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

great wax figure of me in a chariot, with my Babes on 
each side of me." 

He was a genial showman, and thoroughly un- 
derstood his profession. 

In the course of the few weeks that elapsed 
between the time that our preliminaries were settled 
and that the steamer on which I was going was to sail, 
there was an opportunity for Artemus Ward to lecture 
again in New York. The suggestion was made to 
him, I believe, by his friend Mr. De Walden, who 
offered to engage the lecturer as a speculation. Poor 
Artemus remembered his previous experience at 
Clinton Hall, and felt some reluctance; but the 
great inducement was, that it would cause his name 
to be again brought before the public in the New 
York papers, and that the popularity so gained would 
be capital on which to trade in California. Mr. 
De Walden proposed that the lecture should be given 
in Niblo's Saloon,* a very handsome room adjoining 
the large theatre known as Niblo's Garden. To this 
proposal Artemus Ward agreed. 

Where the lecture should be given having been 
arranged, the title of it became a matter of discussion. 
As for the matter, there was no difficulty. The well- 
tried jokes, which as " orient pearls at random strung/" 
had done duty in The Babes in the Wood, and in 
Sixty Minutes in Africa, were all ready to be made 
available, but the lecture required to have a new and 
catching title. 

Just at that period " Pepper's Ghost," as the 
famous ghost illusion was familiarly termed, had 



* Since then, I believe, the saloon has been converted into 
the dining-room of the Metropolitan Hotel. 



ARTEMUS UPON " GHOSTS:' 169 

attained to great notoriety in England and had been 
imported to America. Two or three speculative 
comedians had taken a trip across the Atlantic, seen 
how the Ghost was worked in London, and brought it 
over to the United States. In a very short time 
itinerant " stars" were travelling in every direction, 
carrying with them huge sheets of plate-glass instead 
of extensive wardrobes. Wallaces Theatre was the 
first to produce the Ghost in New York City. The 
Boston Theatre very quickly followed, Macbeth, 
Hamlet, Richard the Third, and half a dozen new 
plays were made the vehicles for exhibiting the reflec- 
tive powers of plate-glass ; and the Ghost became the 
dominant sensation. What better title could Artemus 
select for his lecture ? Not that he knew anything 
about the mechanism of the ghostly illusion, nor that 
he intended to make it the subject of his discourse. 
The public who came to hear him, if they knew any- 
thing at all of Artemus Ward, came with the intention 
to laugh — not to be instructed in optics. The few 
who were not familiar with the style of the lecturer 
enjoyed the burlesque, and passed the joke on to their 
friends. 

Here is the way in which the entertainment was 
announced. It will be perceived that it is en- 
titled an u Entirely New Comic Oration/-' and 
that the orator is styled " The Eminent Young 
American Humorist/'' I have reason to believe 
that Mr. De Walden was guilty of these devia- 
tions from Artemus Ward's usual manner of 
making his announcements. A "comic oration " 
was thought to suggest something more attractive 
than would have been implied by advertising a 
humorous lecture. 



170 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

NIBLO'S SALOON, 

568, BROADWAY. 

WEDNESDAY EVENING, 
September 30, 1863. 



THE EMINENT YOUNG AMERICAN HUMORIST, 

ARTEMUS WARD, 

(CHARLES F. BROWNE,) 
IN HIS ENTIEELY NEW COMIC ORATION, 

THE GHOSTS. 



Admission Fifty Cents. 

The " comic oration" "was successful. Niblo's 
Saloon was crowded, and the orator had a fair start 
for California. I had arranged to land there a fort- 
night before him ; and during the interval that was to 
elapse between the sailing of the steamer on which my 
passage was taken and that which was to take him, he 
determined to go down to Maine and bid a temporary 
farewell to his relatives. 

In the slang of the stage, for "the ghost" to 
" walk" simply means that when salary-day arrives 
there is money in the treasury. It is a sorry day for 
the actor — and such days have been known even in the 
largest theatres of London — when " No ghost walks !" 
As Artemus Ward placed in my hands the morning 
papers of New York with the report in them of the 
" Oration" on " The Ghosts," he smilingly observed — 

" Take them with you, and have the notices copied. 
We shall want the ghost to walk in California !" 

And the ghost did walk there with the steps of a 
strong and lusty spirit. 



OFF TO CALIFORNIA. 171 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE ATLANTIC OCEAN SHOWMEN ON THE SEA. 

OFF to California ! The third day of October, 
1863, is bright, breezy, and sunny. The North 
Star is a large and sea-worthy steamer. Captain 
Jones is a cheery, ruddy-faced, good-tempered looking 
captain, and his officers seem to be the right men to 
manage the business of the vessel on her voyage from 
New York to Aspinwall. 

It wants a few minutes to noon. The North Star 
is alongside of Pier No. 3, North River, and at twelve 
o'clock she is to sail. Her decks are crowded with 
passengers, starting for the land of gold. The rickety, 
battered, dirty, wooden pier is equally as crowded, 
and the policeman who stands at the gate cannot 
keep back the thronging multitude who are pressing 
in to bid " good-bye" to departing friends. Twelve 
o'clock has arrived, and as the bell of the City Hall 
clock announces the arrival of noon, the paddle-wheels 
of the steamer begin to revolve. 

Handkerchiefs are waved, huzzas are given, hats are 
flourished, hands are kissed to those who throw kisses 
back in return. There is one poor lady who has 
come to bid farewell to him she loves, and who, as the 
steamer moves off, sinks fainting among the cheering, 



172 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

weeping crowd. The Stars and Stripes are flying above 
ns — the " us" comprising more than a thousand 
tightly packed passengers. To the stern of our 
steamer is the Hudson River. "We are heading for 
New York Bay. New York itself is on the left, 
Jersey City on the right, and Staten Island, green 
and shady, in front. 

Two other steamers start almost at the same 
minute. The one ahead is the Illinois, also laden 
with passengers for California ; but belonging to the 
"M. O. Roberts' Line," while the North Star is 
owned by Commodore Vanderbilt, and carries the 
United States mails. The steamer closely following 
ours is the Bavaria, bound for Hamburgh. 

In little more than an hour we are steaming 
through " The Narrows." Brooklyn — the " City of 
Churches" — has just been passed and is off our port 
quarter. Staten Island is to starboard. Away ahead 
is Coney Island, with its wilderness of sand, the 
resort of happy New Yorkers on Sunday. To the 
left of it, but near to us, is Bath, where in a snug 
villa just among the trees lives Mr. Barney Williams, 
the actor; and there is the Bath Hotel, at one of 
the windows of which Carlotta Patti is probably 
watching our steamer slide by. Almost hidden by 
trees, but close to the shore on the Brooklyn side, is 
a small hostelry known as the Beach House, kept 
by a buxom English landlady named Mrs. Dobbinson, 
and down to it I know that kindly friends have come 
with telescopes to take a parting glance as the North 
Star steams rapidly onwards. 

Three o'clock and our steamer has made Sandy 
Hook. We stop to part from our pilot, and to send 
off with him two detectives who have come with us 



THE " SHOW-ARTIST" AFLOAT. 173 

down the bay to make search for a murderer. On 
Sandy Hook we may observe that a fort is being 
built; and, if we noticed carefully as we steamed 
through the Narrows, between Fort Richmond on the 
one side and Fort Hamilton on the other, we might 
have wondered whether the stoutest ship of an enemy 
could by any possibility steam up the bay unscathed, 
to inflict injury on the city of New York. 

Sandy Hook is passed. The highlands of Nave- 
sink are in sight; and as the Bavaria steams off to 
the east towards the old World, the North Star 
ploughs her way down the Atlantic, to take us to the first 
station on the road towards the world which is new. 

Pleasant it is to feel the ocean breezes disporting 
around us — to see the green waves rolling, mounting, 
leaping, and prancing on every side — to watch the 
white spray playing merrily in our path, and the 
shadows of the scudding clouds reflected in the sunlit 
waters. After all there is something jolly in the life of 
a " show-artist" — to use a phrase invented by a friend. 
There is jollity in the company amidst which he is 
thrown, jollity in the variable life with which he be- 
comes acquainted, and exquisite jollity in the feelings 
with which he welcomes the change from the theatre 
or the hall, with its atmosphere of gas -smoke and the 
breathings of a multitude, to the enjoyment of un- 
obstructed sunlight, and of the uncontaminated 
air wafted over the stimulating and health-giving 
ocean. 

We have made 177 miles in our first day's run. 
The weather is pleasant. People around are chatty, 
and much gratuitous information is offered. For in- 
stance, the captain is pointed out as being a remark- 
able man. We are told that he commanded the 



174 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Ariel when it was seized by Captain Semmes of the 
Alabama, and that he bonded it for over two hundred 
thousand dollars, " payable three months after the 
recognition of the Southern Confederacy." We are 
told that his pay on board the North Star is two 
hundred and fifty dollars per month and a per centage 
on the freight. Then we are told that the manage- 
ment of the Vanderbilt line of steamers is so close and 
niggardly that our doctor has to act as purser also ; 
that he is mail agent, freight agent, and express agent 
into the bargain, and that his pay is only fifty dollars 
per month. We learn that we have one thousand 
three hundred souls on board, of which number six 
hundred are in the steerage; and we are informed 
that in consequence of the North Star being so 
crowded there will have to be a first and second table 
for each class of passengers, as well as extra tables 
for the children, so that from the first meal at six in 
the morning the stewards and waiters will be em- 
ployed at furnishing meals till seven o'clock in the 
evening. But the stewards are gentlemen of colour, 
and are well accustomed to the work. At sea they 
have to bestir themselves. When on shore they seek 
for enjoyment with avidity, and appreciate fully 
the luxury of idleness — appreciate it with that 
active rather than passive sense of appreciation 
which indolence communicates to the mind of the 
African. 

Reeling up to us comes a poor muddled fellow who 
has just been to the " bar," behind the wheelhouse, 
where he has visited again and again for the last few 
hours. In his weak, whisky-addled brain there is a 
strange mixture of patriotism and love of the sea. 
He was inebriated when he came on board, and as we 



ON THE ATLANTIC. 175 

steamed out of New York he commenced singing a 
song, the only words distinguishable in which were — 

" Spread wide the sails, 
And blow the gales ; 
The old flag 's floating o'er us !" 

He has been desiring the sails to spread, and 
bidding the gales to blow all through the night. By- 
midnight he had become a little confused, and com- 
manded the gales to spread and the sails to blow. 
This morning he had a fresh relay of whisky for his 
breakfast ; since then he has had a reinforcement of 
whisky for his luncheon, and now the song has be- 
come more incomprehensible. The latest version of 
it is — 

" Spwide ol' gales, 
Blowth-sails ; 
Flag 's a-fightin' o'er us !" 

And he is desirous of fighting some one himself. 
Floundering along, he comes plump against the man 
who is hauling up the ashes from the engine-room. 
In a moment the bucket of ashes is emptied over the 
singer's head, and " the old flag'" is grievously dusty. 

Our second day at sea is a little more orderly than 
our first. But Mr. Daly is doing a good business in 
his bar behind the wheelhouse. He charges ten cents 
a drink for beer and fifteen cents for spirits. His 
drinks are bad but his customers many. 

We left New York on Saturday at noon. It is 
now five o'clock on Tuesday morning, and we are 
passing stormy Cape Hatteras ; off which so many a 
brave ship has gone down. The sea is true to Cape 
Hatteras, and will not let the North Star pass with- 
out causing it to behave in a most unsteadv manner 



1 76 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

for a fixed star with so good a reputation for keeping 
its place. 

Yesterday the weather was chilly. To-day we feel 
pleasantly warm, yet the sun is not shining any more 
brightly. Whence the agreeable change ? Please to 
notice the blue tint of the water in our wake, and the 
seaweed tossing on the crests of the waves around us. 
We are passing across the Gulf Stream. The warm 
balmy air owes its warmth to that bright blue water 
which has laved sunnier shores than even those of the 
Carolinas. We shall leave the Gulf Stream in the 
afternoon, and again see the green waves and feel 
the bracing breezes of the Atlantic. Along paths of 
sapphire and on a road of emerald we are hastening 
to the Land of Gold. 

" No lights allowed on deck in the evening." Why 
an order so arbitrary ? " The ship to be kept per- 
fectly dark." Why the precaution? Simply because 
we are sailing under the Stars and Stripes, and may 
fall in with privateers. Captain Jones has a lively 
remembrance of his having once fallen a prey to 
Captain Raphael Semmes ; and as the Ariel was not a 
tricksy spirit enough to keep out of the way of 
danger, our careful commander prudently consults 
our safety by not allowing the -North Star to shine. 
We shall be convoyed by and by, but the time is not 
yet. Meanwhile we sneak along in the dark, and 
take our chance of being run down by any vessel that 
may happen to meet us in the gloom. 

Latitude 28 ^ N., by noon on Wednesday. The 
indicator informs us that our paddle-wheels have 
made 65,000 revolutions since we left New York. 
"They have to do about 180,000/" replies the engi- 
neer, to an inquiry from a passenger relative to how 



LADY PASSENGERS. 177 

many turns of the paddle-wheel are averaged between 
New York and Aspinwall — a distance of about 1980 
miles. 

Magnificent weather ! Sunset. A golden glow 
over cloudless sky and waveless, sparkling ocean. 
Away in the direction of Florida a few clouds are 
discernible, but " of the fleeciest texture, while the 
heaven in which they float is radiant with tints of 
gleaming amber, royal purple, and a green that has 
all the delicate beauty of the beryl. We seem to 
breathe sunlight with every breath of air. 

On an evening so delightful every passenger is on 
deck. Let us notice a few of them, and we shall see 
that we are not the only showman on board. 

There, in a rocking-chair, sits a lady who has been 
reading George Eliot's " Romola " all day. Her 
fingers are blazing with diamond rings, and the little 
brooch with which her shawl is fastened is worth at 
least a thousand dollars. Very lady-like in her 
manner, very pleasant to converse with, she can 
maintain a conversation in three different languages, 
and can quote poetry to you by the volume. You 
would hardly think her to be the wife of a professional 
gambler, and a woman who has helped to ruin a score 
of men. But we who happen to know her, know that 
she is that which we say. By chance, also, we 
know that she is not going on with us to Cali- 
fornia, but will leave us at Panama on her way to 
Valparaiso, whither she is travelling to look at some 
property recently won by her husband at the gambling- 
table. Reading " Romola " as she is, you would give 
her credit for being better mated and better minded. 
The story of Savonarola and those diamond-ringed 
fingers hardly accord. Yet they are both parts of a 



1^8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

show. She wears the diamonds to attract some; she 
reads that she may be able to attract others. We 
who have travelled know. 

There is another lady, who has gleaming white 
teeth which she will persist in causing you to see. 
She is conversing with the owner of one of the 
wealthiest estates in California. Many years ago she 
appeared as an actress at the Adelphi Theatre, in 
London. Now she is a spiritualist, and is going out 
to San Francisco to lecture on spiritualism. A 
rapping-table constitutes her show. 

Beyond her is a clergyman whose talent is well 
known, and whose eloquence has rendered him remark- 
able. He belongs to the sect of the Universalists, 
and preaches sermons wherein he quotes largely from 
the profane writers. Shakspeare in the pulpit is his 
show. 

Just beside the clergyman is a lithe, active, beady- 
eyed little man, who has smoked cigars from the 
time we left New York till now, and will continue to 
smoke them from here to South America, whither he 
is going to purchase some horses of a peculiar breed. 
When we met him years ago he owned a circus. 
Now he is the proprietor of a " race-track/'' and of 
some very good trotting ponies. The horse constitutes 
his show. 

Here is a real showman in the person of a friend 
from Philadelphia, who is travelling to San Francisco 
to take a theatre and produce his own plays. He has 
brought a box-full with him. None of the Philadel- 
phian managers will play them. Hence he is going 
to California to hire theatres and play them himself. 

Here also is another genuine " show-artist." He 
plays the violoncello. Last evening he became confi- 



VIOLONCELLOS AND COFFINS. 179 

dential. And, in the course of conversation, stated 
that his violoncello is on board, contained in a box 
made from the wood of a tree which overshadowed his 
birth-place. He is voyaging to California to try change 
of air, his lungs being weak. " If I die/' says 
he, " I intend to be buried in that violoncello-case. 
It is made large enough. Two partitions take out, 
and so make it a comfortable coffin/' 

Poor violoncellist ! He has never been to England, 
and does not know of the eccentricity of an English 
provincial manager whose habits were parsimonious, 
who rambled much from town to town, and whose wife 
was in a very ailing condition. Rambling as he did, 
he had to take a theatrical wardrobe with him. The 
wardrobe required a packing-case and the wife would 
one day require a coffin. The manager chanced to 
be at a theatre where wood had been left behind by a 
previous lessee, and where he had to engage a stage 
carpenter. For motives of economy he had a strong 
coffin made to pack his wife's stage dresses in. 
When the poor wife died the coffin was ready. 

There are many others on board the North Star 
this bright evening who are showmen or showwomen 
in the fullest sense of the word. There is a Californian 
legislator who is going to bring in a new Bill this 
coming session at Sacramento. He is a capital "wire- 
puller," and will work his Bill with the use of the 
same arts to gain popularity which the showman 
employs for his show. Beside him is a fashionable 
milliner from New York, who is travelling to San 
Francisco with patterns with which she will open an 
exhibition that will bedazzle many a fair Californian, 
and cause the loss of some scores of dollars to many a 
stout son of the Pacific. Showfolk every one, Me&- 

N 2 



180 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

sieurs et Mesdames, disguise it how you may. On 
this great stage of twenty-four thousand miles in cir- 
cumference, with its " sinks " and " traps," its shifting 
scenes and illusory " gauzes/-' its complex machinery, 
moved by influences from above or mechanism beneath, 
the play goes bravely on ; and are not " all the 
men and women merely players " ? 

Thursday evening now, and we are off Turk's Island. 
At midnight we descry out at sea two red lights with a 
white one over them. Our captain knows those lights. 
He has been waiting and watching for them. They 
are on the San Jago de Cuba, the steamer destined to 
keep us company and protect us as we steam along 
between Cuba and San Domingo. So up go our lights 
also. He who wishes to light a cigar on the deck 
may fearlessly use his match box. We have our big 
brother to fight for us. Who's afraid now ? 

All day on Friday the. convoy steamer continues to 
play around us. She is very small, has eight guns 
and a pivot one at her stern. The " walking beam " 
of her engine is fully exposed to view. If Captain 
Raphael Semmes should chance to put in an appear- 
ance and fire one well-directed shot at that walking 
beam would our big brother be able to fight for us 
then ? The question will suggest itself. 

Thanks, however, to the company of the San Jago 
de Cuba, we can have lights on the deck to-night. We 
are within the tropics and are too warm to do 
anything during the day but loll lazily in shady 
places. So, in the evening, we desire amusement. 
A concert is proposed and given. One of the offi- 
cers can play a guitar, and many of the ladies can 
sing. 

Here is the programme of our concert. " John 



AT ASPINWALL. 181 

Brown's Body/' "Columbia the Gem of the Ocean/' 
« My Country 'tis of thee/' " Rally round the Flag, 
Boys/' "Kingdom comin'/' "Annie of the Vale/' " Do 
they think of me at Home ?" and " The Star-Spangled 
Banner." The very names of our songs are indicative 
of time, place, and circumstances. American is shooting 
down American in that fair land to the north of the 
waters on which we steam and sing. 

Saturday finds us in the Caribbean Sea. On Sun- 
day at noon we are 328 miles from Aspinwall. After 
prayers, up with the baggage to the weighing machine, 
that every passenger may know how much he has to pay 
extra for that which belongs to him, before it is trans- 
ferred to the Panama Railway. Monday night, and 
we enter Navy Bay. We sight the lighthouse at two 
in the morning and cruise about till sunrise. The 
planet Venus has already risen. Not the same modestly 
bright Venus we have seen in the North, but a Venus 
of dazzling brilliancy, seemingly twice as large and 
shining with twenty-fold splendour. 

This is Colon and this is Aspinwall. The English 
will call it Colon. The American persists in terming 
it Aspinwall. Whichever name you please, ladies and 
gentlemen, but oblige the Captain by stepping on shore. 



182 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA — SHOWMEN IN THE 
TROPICS. 

WE are at Aspinwall, standing on a coral reef in 
the island of Manzanilla, and in the republic 
of New Granada. 

Weary travellers who are not partial to the sea are 
glad to arrive at Aspinwall. Timid passengers who 
have a fear of fever are glad to hasten away from it as 
rapidly as they can. All that there is to be seen can 
be seen in an hour. There have been expeditious 
travellers who landed early in the morning and were 
buried by midnight. 

Some such experience fell to the fate of the poor 
Frenchman who came here across the Isthmus, bring- 
ing with him a pet monkey. The Frenchman was a 
naval officer. He arrived at Aspinwall early in the 
morning. Whilst he was at breakfast, his monkey 
made its escape. He had brought it with him from 
South America and was unwilling to lose it. The 
monkey fled to the outskirts of the town and its 
master went in pursuit. The monkey was captured in 
the forest which forms the background to Aspinwall. 
Wearied with the pursuit of the animal, and probably 
feeling suddenly ill, the poor Frenchman rested him- 



A FAITHFUL MONKEY. 183 

self on a fallen tree, securing his captive by chaining 
him to the loop of one of his boots. Neither man nor 
monkey returned to Aspinwall that evening ; but next 
morning the monkey made its appearance in the town 
dragging its master's boot after it, and with the gold 
band off its master's cap paraded around its neck. 
Search was made and the Frenchman discovered. 
Fever had seized him. He had died on the borders 
of the tropical forest. The monkey to free itself 
had either played the part of a boot-jack, or the dying 
man had kicked off the boot in his last struggles with 
the fever-fiend. 

Very grand is the appearance of that tropical forest 
as we view it from our place of landing. Before us is 
a long row of white houses built of wood, and each 
having a capacious verandah. Some of them are 
hotels, some shops, and some offices. In the distance, 
away behind the row of white houses, is the dense, 
luxuriant, richly-green swamp-forest. Still further 
away in the distance is a range of mountains, misty 
and indistinct among the vapours which rise from" the 
wilderness of vegetation at their base. These moun- 
tains we shall have to cross on the little railway on 
which we shall presently travel. In crossing them 
we shall traverse the narrowest portion of the back- 
bone of the Western world. Southwards it consti- 
tutes the Andes, while northward, where it becomes 
the Rocky Mountains, the great ribs of granite and of 
porphyry attached to it, stretch out and form the giant 
sides of the North American continent. 

We bid " good bye " to Captain Jones and to the 
North Star. The wharf we tread on is part of a coral 
reef stretching nearly a thousand feet into the bay. 
Ten days ago we saw cocoa-nuts for sale in the shops 



i8 4 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of New York. This morning we may see them hang- 
ing from the cocoa-nut palms. Please to notice that 
the wharf has a metallic roof, and that through the 
boarded floor the cocoa-trees shoot up and flourish, 
claiming their fall right to the soil whereon their 
parent trees flourished, when Columbus in the course 
of his third voyage walked with the step of a con- 
queror where we are now hustling one another. 

Queer-looking hotels are these in the row of wooden 
houses. One of them is named The Howard House, 
another The United States, and a third The St. 
Charles. Their touters are very anxious that we should 
take breakfast, and as everybody else who has come 
by the steamer from New York seems desirous to try 
the novelty of breakfast on dry land, we had better 
imitate the example. The charge for breakfast is 
one dollar. We ask for a little fresh milk with our 
coffee. "Berry sorry, massa," replies -the black 
attendant, "no milk. Cows ^on ; t gib any milk in 
Aspinwall.'" Then, on enquiry, we learn that we are 
not indebted to the Republic of New Granada for our 
butter ; but that we have in a considerate manner 
brought it on with us in the steamer from the States. 
We offer payment in greenbacks. At*once we discover 
that we are in the land of President Senor Mosquera, 
and not in that of Mr. Abraham Lincoln. " Forty 
per cent, discount, here on greenbacks, sir. This 
dollar bill is worth only sixty cents." With the ever- 
green forest in the rear of their little town the Aspin- 
wallians do not value greenbacks as we do. 

Breakfast being over let us take a stroll. Here is 
a notice posted up that " The train at ten o'clock is 
for steerage passengers only." Ladies and gentlemen 
who have voyaged first or second class on board the 



ASPINWALL. 185 

steamer may stay in Aspinwall till eleven o'clock. 
The railway runs along the open street in front of 
the hotels and shops. We may notice too, that there 
is an Isthmus Telegraph, and that the posts which 
support the wires are built up of concrete, and look 
like stone. Wooden posts would quickly rot in this 
climate. Here are the ruins of half a dozen burnt 
houses. The fire which consumed them very nearly 
had a chance of consuming the whole town. Opposite 
the burnt houses is a steamer stranded, with her back 
broken. She is the Avon, belonging to the Royal 
West Indian Mail Steam Packet Company, and was 
driven on shore in a hurricane. The locomotive 
getting up steam in the middle of the road is the 
" Obispo." She is preparing to take the steerage 
passengers to the Pacific. 

An odd population is this we notice in the streets 
of Aspinwall. It has more streets than one, as 
you may perceive. Here we meet with Americans 
from the United States ; a little farther on is a group 
of Spaniards, beyond them are some Jews, and 
sprinkled over the whole place are Jamaica negroes 
with very wide brims to their straw hats, and Jamaica 
negresses with very yellow handkerchiefs bound round 
their brows of jet. 

Turn off round here to the right and we are in the 
native market place, the Mingillo as it is called. The 
negroes we see here are not from the West Indies, but 
are the descendants of the slaves who were once owned 
by the Spanish rulers of the country. Here, too, are 
a few aboriginal Indians from San Bias, men whose 
ancestors the Conquistadore never conquered. They 
are in full dress, having a piece of coloured cloth tied 
round their loins. To men such as they are — to their 



i86 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

forefathers, who, like them, had straight black hair 
and high cheek bones, Columbus talked when he 
was as great a stranger on these shores as we are 
to-day. 

We stop a little merry-faced, large-eyed, graceful 
negro girl who has a school-book in her hand. She 
goes to school, as she admits. We ask her a few 
questions and finally promise her a silver quarter- 
dollar if she will tell us who King David was. 

" Guess you s'pose I don't know who Kin'' Dabid 
war/' she laughingly replies. 

" Then, say who he was, and you shall have the 
quarter/' 

"Guess you want to know 'bout de ole Kin' Dabid?" 

" Yes ; the old King David." 

" Why de ole Kin' Dabid, massa, war de kin' who 
come from England to fight Gen'ral Washington in 
New York S'pose I don't know ?" 

We give her the quarter-dollar and pass on ; buy- 
ing on our way five oranges for ten cents, or a "real," 
as they call it here, some bananas, and two bottles of 
claret, sold at a stall in the open street, paying for 
them un peso, cuarto reales, or one dollar and a-half. 

Aspinwall bears all the characteristics of a temporary 
town. Its birth was yesterday. It is alive to-day. 
To-morrow, perhaps, it will have no existence. While 
it is alive it does its best to take rank among the 
towns of the world. Our fellow-passengers are peeping 
into the freight depot of the railway. Let us take a 
peep also. Those huge piles of pork, beef, bread, 
cheese, and flour are collections from various parts of 
the United States, and are destined to feed the inhabi- 
tants of towns on the coast of the Pacific. Those 
strongly-made boxes contain gold ore from California, 



A DEPOT OF RICH FREIGHT. 187 

silver ore from Nevada, and Mexican dollars from the 
cities of Mexico. Heaped up to the very roof of 
the building we may notice bundles of sarsaparilla 
bark from Nicaragua, bales of quina bark from New 
Granada itself, and bags of coffee and cacas from Costa 
Rica and Ecuador. In the corner to our right we see 
some tons of pearl oyster shells from the pearl 
fisheries of Panama, and here to the left are thousands 
of hides from all sorts of places between California and 
Patagonia. Here, too, is cochineal from Guatemala, 
indigo from San Salvador, and guano from lonely isles 
of the Pacific. As a commercial " show " this little 
town of Aspinwall acquits itself very well. Here are 
riches enough for any town of moderate ambition. 
Then why is it that there is no roof to the stone 
church over yonder, and why — oh why — are those 
filthy, stagnant lagoons allowed to remain in the middle 
of the town to generate miasma and render the place 
more unhealthy than it would be simply from its 
geographical position? Has President Senor Mos- 
quera no Board of Health, or is it thought that the 
turkey-buzzards, which roam at large up and down the 
streets picking up the offal, are sufficient Sanitary 
Commissioners ? 

Perhaps, however, there is another reason why As- 
pinwall does not take more care of itself, and that is a 
consciousness of its own fate. When the railway is 
completed across the American continent from New 
York to San Francisco, very few indeed will be the 
travellers to California by way of Aspinwall ; and, 
when the canal is cut across the Isthmus of Darien, 
will Aspinwall be at the Atlantic end of it, or will she 
be left to mourn the days departed, while another 
town, the streets of which are not yet made, shall col- 



1 88 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

lect the tolls of vessels passing from the eastern to 
the western side of the world* 

Poor Aspinwall ! The undeniable fact is that you 
owe your existence after all to what billiard-players 
designate as a " fluke" or a " scratch/" 7 If the ad- 
venturous Scots, who sailed for Darien in 1698, had 
succeeded in their enterprize, and if William III. had 
protected with his fleet the town of New Edinburgh, 
there would probably have been no Aspinwall. You 
are but a development of the little railway to Panama, 
and should the trains on that little railway cease to 
run, you would not be wanted in the world, nor would 
you make for after ages even a respectable ruin. 

There is the signal ! Eleven o'clock has arrived. 
Our engine, the (i Gorgona," has her steam up. The 
train is ready. We take our seats. A Jamaica 
negro stoker shovels more coals into the furnace, 
Jamaica negro breaksmen attend to the machinery of 
the train, and Jamaica negro signalmen, having already 
cleared the road, notify us that we have a clear start. 
Our train glides slowly along the open street, past the 
hotels where the black chambermaids are lolling over 
the verandah, past the Jew slop-shops and the Yankee 
stores, past the stalls in the street at which are being 
vended fresh oranges with their rinds still green, and 
bottles of claret bottled in every variety of bottle. 



* Since I crossed the Isthmus last, the Legislature of the 
State of New York have granted a charter of incorporation to 
the Darien Canal Company. According to a letter from Dr. 
Cullen in the Athenaeum of March 6th, 1869, " The line selected 
by the promoters (Messrs. Cooper, Yanderbilt, and others) is 
that from Caledonia Harbour to the Gulf of San Miguel, so long 
advocated by me." Dr. Cullen states in the same letter that 
the Republic of Columbia has conceded the lands, and that the 
engineers of the company will at once commence operations. 



AN EXPENSIVE RAILWAY. 189 

To our right are the waters of Navy Bay. Behind 
us far away are the sunlit waves of the Caribbean 
Sea; and in front of us, to be plunged into imme- 
diately, and rushed through with what speed the 
" Gorgona" can command, are all the richly-green and 
luxuriant glories of the primeval tropical forest. We 
are on one of the most wondrous little railways in the 
world. 

" That's so," observes an American friend on the 
other side of the car. " No two ways about its being 
wondrous enough. A railroad not fifty miles long 
that charges you twenty- five dollars to see both ends 
of it is a pretty steep kind of a rail/''* 

" But bear in mind, gentlemen, how much this 
railway cost to make," observes another passenger. 
" Not only in money, gentlemen, but in Jives. I 
have heard say that almost as many workmen died in 
making it as there are sleepers under the rails. Irish 
workmen were tried, but they died off quickly. New 
Orleans" niggers were tried, but they couldn't stand 
the pressure. Coolies were brought over, and they 
can stand considerable, but even they caved in. The 
West Indian nigger was found to be the fellow to 
battle the climate best. We have to thank them and 
Colonel George M. Totten, the engineer, for this road 
to Panama." 

We remark that it is a very good road, and 
that the engine seems to glide smoothly over the 
rails. Whereupon our communicative friend con- 
tinues : — 

"Yes, gentlemen, all the sleepers on this road are 



* Twenty-five dollars, or about five pounds English money, 
was the railway fare across the Isthmus by the steamer train. 



igo THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

made of lignum vitse. No wood but that will resist 
the boring worms. Lignum vitse, gentlemen, means 
wood of life, but you may count every sleeper as being 
the monument to a dead man. Even these telegraph- 
posts would rot in no time if they were made of wood. 
They look like stone, but they are all cast out of cement/'' 

We thank our informant for his explanations, and 
look out at the open window to notice the wondrous 
scenery around us ; the wealth of vegetation, the 
gorgeous tints of waving leaves and trailing stems, 
the evergreen palms with their bunches of ripe fruit, 
bright in colour as though each bunch were a cluster 
of rubies; the mangrove bushes with their pendant 
boughs drooping down and taking root in the ground ; 
the cedro trees towering up and thrusting out their 
strong branches, branch interlacing with branch, and 
one grasping the other as with the arm of a giant; 
palms whose pinnate leaves are nearly twenty feet in 
length — palms from under whose crowns hang down 
tassels of gold — palms around whose trunks entwine 
clasping flowers of every conceivable hue and every 
exquisite tint. Nature seems to riot in prodigality of 
verdure. Here, where summer dwells for ever, where 
ceaseless sunshine steeps the whole scene with light 
and colour and glory, where the very air seems as full 
of life as it is of perfume, it is difficult to believe that 
miasma can have sway, or that to live here con- 
tinuously through the long summer days could be 
unlike abiding in Paradise. One would think it to be 
the very luxury of living. 

Listen ! we seem to hear the trees growing and the 
flowers opening, just as we really do hear the palm 
nuts drop and the ripe bananas fall. The scarlet- 
breasted bird with the huge beak uttering that strange 



TEE PANAMA RAILWAY. 191 

cry is the toucan ; the cooing sound which conies to 
our ear from the recesses of the forest is the call of the 
turtle-dove ; that singular whistle is the voice of the 
pretty black and golden turpiale ; and that harsh 
scream proceeds from the throat of the green and 
crimson parrot. The tropical forest with all its rich- 
ness of colouring is rendered still more variegated with 
the plumage of bright birds and the gleaming wings 
of gaudily coloured butterflies. 

In less than half a mile from Aspinwall we left the 
island of Manzanilla, and are now travelling over the 
mainland. We have passed Mount Hope, on which is 
the cemetery of those who perished in making the 
road on which we travel. The river just crossed was 
the Mindee. We notice tall bamboos flourishing along 
its banks ; and, if we stopped to seek for them, we 
might find any number of alligators in its waters. 
Sometimes they crawl out and bask upon the rails on 
which we journey. If the " cow-catcher w in front of 
the engine fail to throw them off, a crushed alligator 
by the roadside will tell the story of the locomotive of 
modern civilization having penetrated to the haunts of 
creatures whose form is typical of the living things 
which inhabited an earlier earth. 

Seven miles from Aspinwall and we pass Gatun 
Station, with its large two- story timber building 
wherein reside the superintendent of this part of the 
line and his workmen. Those fifty or sixty huts built 
of cane and thatched with palm leaves constitute the 
native town of Gatun. To our right is the Chagres 
River. In its waters we may notice a number of 
dusky natives bathing ; some of them are men and 
some young women. American ladies — and there are 
some in the cars — please do not look out of the 



193 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

windows as we pass by; the New Granadians have 
not . your ideas of decency. There are young girls 
standing on the river bank gazing at our train rushing 
past. Do they endeavour to conceal themselves ? 
Not they. Yet the only dress they wear is that rich 
brown tint with which nature herself has clothed them, 
and the sun of the tropics dyed their dusky skins. 
There are older women with naked u piccannies" 
riding straddle-legged on their hips, and there are 
children playing on the river's edge, as amphibious in 
their childhood as are the alligators of which they 
have no fear. 

The " Gorgona" is steaming away briskly. We cross 
the Rio Gatun by an iron truss girder bridge ninety- 
seven feet in span, and plunge into a forest so dense 
that the trees seem matted together, each being in- 
extricably bound to its neighbour with living cordage. 
Vines seem to rise everywhere from the ground — to 
rain down as it were from thp.yery heights of the 
forest — to droop, to trail, to climb, to twine, to hang 
in rich festoons and wreathe into arabesque networks 
of intricate beauty, marrying tree to tree, wedding 
the mangrove to the palm, and the bread-fruit tree to 
the banana ; and clothing all with a rich embroidery 
of green and gold, in interminable profusion extend- 
ing deep and far through all the sleepy lotus land. 

We pass Lion Hill Station, and our conductor or 
guard points to some beautiful white flowers growing 
in the swamps by the road-side. We ask him the 
name, and he replies — 

"■ That, gentlemen, is the Flor de Espiritu Santo, or 
the Holy Ghost flower."* 

* So called by the Spaniards. It is known to botanists as 
the Peristera elata. 



Plate I'll J. 
THE CHINESE THEATRE, SAN FRANCISCO. 




CELESTIAL ACTORS AND CONJURERS. 

From Sketches in Artemus Ward's Portjolio. 

A figure in the ujfcr zroui is supposed (e nj^^^^^^^u^^^^^ 



BUSHING ACROSS NEW GRANADA. 193 

We wonder at the name and make enquiries. A 
lady chances to have one of the flowers, and we 
examine it. Here is the origin of its Spanish designa- 
tion readily discernible within the flower itself. In 
the tulip-shaped cup of the flower is what appears to 
be an exquisitely modelled image of a snow-white 
dove, its head bent forward on its breast, its little bill 
tipped with a ruby tint, its wings folded gracefully, 
and its plumage of matchless purity. The plant is an 
Orchid, and the flower gives forth a delightful odour 
which perfumes the railway carriage, causing our 
passengers to praise its fragrance as much as they do 
the extreme beauty of its marvellous formation. 

Merrily we rattle over the rails. This station is 
called " Ahorca Lagarto,'" which we know to mean 
something about hanging a lizard, but what lizard was 
hanged, or where the lizard is hanging, or why any 
lizard should be hanged at all, is more than any one 
of our merry company can explain. Here we are at 
" Stephen's Tree/' a wondrous sample of tropical 
luxuriance. It is a ccdro tree, at least one hundred 
feet high. Vines trail up its trunk in clustering 
beauty and drape themselves in curtains, garlands, 
and wreaths of pendant verdure over the roofs of our 
carriages. Close to the roots of the great tree grow 
some sensitive plants, which, sentient to the vibration 
caused by the engine, curl their leaves as we glide 
past. A little farther and we pass the cottage where 
Stephens, the explorer of Central America, once lived. 
A few miles more and we are at Frijoli Station, where 
the natural wonders of the region we are tr aver sing- 
most abound. The flowers on our left are passion- 
flowers, the birds flying round are orioles or hanging 
birds. Hereabout are boa constrictors and tarantulas., 

o 



i 9 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

monkeys, opossums, ant-eaters, iguanas, cougars, and 
tiger-cats. The proprietor of a menagerie might 
stock his exhibition here in the course of a few days ; 
and if desirous to experiment, might have himself 
bitten by centipedes, scorpions, mosquitoes, sandflies, 
and jiggers all within the time that might elapse 
between his breakfast and his dinner. 

Again the Chagres River. The bridge by which 
we are whisked over it is of wrought iron, six hundred 
and twenty-five feet long. Our conversation in the 
railway carriage turns on the subject of alligators. We 
have at least sixty travellers in the carriage, and 
amongst them is a lady who is anxious to know if the 
natives catch the alligators, and if so, by what pro- 
cess they are caught. A gentleman seated in front of 
us volunteers some information on the subject. 

u They are generally caught, madam, by tickling 
them," says he. 

"How very extraordinary!" exclaims the lady. 
" Pray explain how the nasty creatures are captured. 
It must be a singular operation ." 

"Very singular indeed, madam," replies the gen- 
tleman, closing one of his eyes as he speaks. " Them 
alligators are queerly made critturs, and they have 
queer fancies. If you look at one of them you will 
see that he has hard spines upon his tail. Examine 
them spines, and you will see the last one at the end 
of the tail to be the largest, to be very sharp and 
strong, and curved back towards the head of the 
critter like a hook. Now alligators, madam, are very 
sleepy things. Always a-going to sleep in the mud. 
The brown-skinned gentlemen who live hereabouts go 
out to catch them with a cane and a long pole. When 
they see one asleep they tickle the point of his tail 



A BUFFET IN THE TROPICS. 195 

very gently with the cane so as not to wake him. The 
alligator feels it, and turns his tail away from the 
tickle. Then they tickle it a little more, and it turns 
it further away, curving it sorter round, as you see. 
They go on tickling, and the critter goes on bending 
round his tail till he gets it right opposite his mouth. 
Then they give it a hard tickle. The critter wakes, 
opens its mouth, snaps at its own tail, gets the point 
of it between its jaws, and the hooked spine driven 
clean into its palate. It has just made itself into a 
ring, you see, and can't help its tail out again. The 
natives have tickled it enough. All they've got to 
do is to put the long pole through the ring the critter 
has made itself into, hoist the two ends of the pole on 
their shoulders, take the critter home and kill it 
quietly. It's a scientific sort of way of catching 
them, madam, but it's very satisfactory." 

We accept the explanation cum grano. The lady 
looks a little sceptical. While some of the passengers 
are laughing, the train stops at Matachin. Travelling 
is apt to engender thirst. A native of New Granada 
has here established a refreshment-station. Let us 
dismount and regale ourselves with English beer, 
French claret, " dulces," oranges, monkey-apples, 
guava or wild mangos. Here is a buffet in the tropics, 
and here are fruits not easily to be found elsewhere. 
Gentlemen, what will you take for refreshment? 



o % 



196 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

PANAMA THE LAOCOON AT SANTA-FE DE BOGOTA. 

WHEN the valiant Spaniard of old time stood 
on the mountain-top from which he ob- 
tained a view of both the great oceans of the globe, 
and when he reflected that, since the beginning of this 
world, he was the first white man who had beheld 
those two oceans at almost a single glance, his sensa- 
tions must have been joyous and his appreciation of 
his own fierce spirit of adventure most intense. 

It was something for that plucky Spaniard to stand 

" Silent upon a peak in Darien," 

where fellow white man had never stood before, some- 
thing to look back at the waves of the old Atlantic 
which washed the shores of his home, and something 
to catch the first glimpse of the waters of that New 
Pacific, flowing westward he knew not where. 

Not quite so picturesque must have been the position 
of Vasco Nunez de Balboa, when perceiving the Pacific 
rolling beneath him, and believing himself to be the 
discoverer of the new ocean, he rushed down to its 
shores, ran up to his neck in the w r ater, and striking 
the waves with his sword, claimed them as being the 



PICTURESQUE PANAMA. 197 

property of Spanish majesty and the exclusive water- 
privilege of the Spanish crown. 

We will not do as Nunez de Balboa did ; but, as 
we are approaching the highest point of the railway — 
" the Summit/' as it is called, we are as anxious as 
Nunez was to catch a peep at the Pacific — The u Gor- 
gona " is puffing and snorting. Empire Station has been 
passed. When we arrive at Culebra, or "the Snake/' 
we shall be higher up in Central America than at 
any other point of the present journey. 

Very grand is the scenery around us. Tall forests 
and lofty mountains. Our road winds round the side 
of a great cliff of basalt, with columnar crystals pro- 
jecting from the rock. Each crystal being from ten 
to twelve feet in length and three or four feet in cir- 
cumference. Here is a structure like to that of the caves 
of Staffa, or the Giants' Causeway, on the height of an 
extension of the Andes. A few miles more and we are 
at Paraiso or " Paradise n Station. Still a few more, and 
having passed the Rio Grande, the city of Panama 
opens to our view. Beyond it, glowing brightly in 
the sheen of the tropical sun, are the placid waters of 
the Pacific. 

Are we in America ? There is nothing about the 
appearance of Panama which reminds us of any city 
in the United States, nor even of poor little Aspinwall 
at the other end of the rail. The towns and cities we 
have seen lately have all been new, but Panama takes 
its lustre from the touch of time. Its great buildings, 
never wholly completed, were built in the days of early 
Spanish rule. The towers of the cathedral, the red- 
tiled roofs of the houses, the crumbling walls and 
turrets of the ancient fortifications, the high volcanic 
mountain rising up behind the city, and the peaceful 



198 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

waters of the great ocean, studded with islands, and 
alive with canoes floating over it and pelicans flying 
above it, make up a picture which would cause a 
landscape painter to feel happy with himself and all 
the world. This little shed covered with corrugated 
iron is the terminus of the railway. We have a few 
hours to spare for a stroll into Panama itself, and if 
we use our time well we can see as much of a Spanish 
city of the past as we shall care to look at now in the 
days of its decay and unwholesome sanitary condition. 

" Be careful, gentlemen/"' advises a railway official 
on the platform. " You may go into the town ; but 
the small-pox is about and they are dying at the rate 
of twenty a-day." 

We have been a little too far to be frightened 
easily, and thanking the official of the Ferro Carril, 
proceed on our way. There is one of us at least who 
has been in Panama before. 

A guard of honour is drawn up on the platform. 
We pass the soldiers respectfully. They are part of 
the army of the Republic of New Granada, and are 
clothed in blue jackets and white trousers. Their 
faces are those of negroes and their fixed bayonets are 
not over-bright. We appreciate their services and 
walk on. 

Though the sunshine is warm enough, the coloring 
of all objects in Panama is warmer still. The tints of 
walls and roofs, houses and churches are all red and 
brown. As a relief to the general warmth the spires 
of the cathedral are of a cool grey. We enter the 
town by taking the course of the dilapidated walls 
alongside the bay ; find the streets to be very narrow 
and the houses to be in most part built of adobe or 
sun-dried brick. 



ARTEMUS WARD IN PANAMA. r 99 

There is just time to run out to the ruins of the 
Church of St. Felipe, which have reminded some 
travellers of the Baths of Caracalla. The nave has 
become a natural hot-house of tropical plants, and the 
wild vines hang in curtains, fringes, and lace- work 
from the arches down to the floor. We wish we had 
that old church nearer home that we might ramble to 
it often. 

Here is the " Hotel Europe," and here the " Aspin- 
wall Hotel/' We seek the latter to ask for a cool 
drink. Before us there is a splendid old wall for the dis- 
play of a poster, and we think that we should like to 
see a poster pasted thereon. In our pocket is one of 
Artemus Ward's bills. With a little trouble we find 
a man who will put it up ; and in the course of ten 
minutes " Artemus Ward will speak a piece" is an 
announcement on the walls of Panama. The natives 
stare at it in wonder. The American residents look, 
laugh, and make enquiries. We know that Artemus 
Ward will not "speak a piece" in that ruinous, effete, 
and almost lifeless city; but it will amuse him when 
he comes along by the steamer train in two weeks 
hence, should he chance to find the bill still upon the 
wall, and his name known in the ancient capital of 
the Isthmus. 

When the poster has been fastened up, we return to 
the hotel. One of our fellow passengers who wears a 
slouch hat and has diamond rings on his fingers, 
and a diamond cluster for a breast-pin, quietly 
asks : — 

" Are you connected with that show ?" 

We reply in the affirmative. 

" Circus, I guess V 

" No, not a circus." 



203 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

" Magic-lantern or tableaux vivants ¥' 

« Neither." 

" Maybe it's a parlour entertainment ?" 

We answer that we are not inclined to regard it as 
an entertainment of that class. 

" Then it's no use in these parts/'' rejoins our 
acquaintance. "I have done my show all over 
these towns and they are picayune every one of 
them." 

We ask what his show is, and are informed that it 
consists of athletic performances and illustrations of 
ancient statues ; that our performer's name is Professor 
Riley — but he is not acquainted with the well-known 
Professor Risley, though from the similarity of the 
name we half suspect that he wishes to be occasionally 
mistaken for him ; and, that having been across to the 
West Indies, he is now going on a professional trip 
to revisit some of the South American towns. He 
strolls with us back to the terminus, and while we 
wait for the boat to convey us to the steamer Golden 
Age, Professor Riley relates a few of his experiences. 

We remark to the Professor, that if all the towns 
hereabouts are like Panama they must be very dreary, 
and we ask him what sort of a place the capital of 
New Granada is, and whether a show would be likely 
to prosper in Santa Fe de Bogota. 

" Bogota !" he shrieks in derision. " Don't make 
a pitch there with anything. Nary Bogota. They 
had me there once. That's where I nearly got mur- 
dered for doing the Lakune" 

Not understanding what the Professor means, we 
ask him what a Lakune is. He answers thus to our 
enquiry : — 

" The Lakune is the old man with his two sons a 



AN ATHLETIC PROFESSOR. 201 

fightin' the sarpints. It's one of the ancient classic 
statoos." 

A suspicion steals over us that our informant refers 
to the Laocoon ; and as the boat is not yet in sight 
we desire to know what the Laocoon could possibly 
have to do with causing a man to be nearly murdered 
in Bogota. So we light up a cigar while the Pro- 
fessor proceeds with his story. 

" My entertainment is the most elegant one they've 
had in these parts. It's a little one-horse perhaps, but 
it would not pay if it warn't. There's myself, my 
son, his wife and her brother. My son's wife can play 
half a dozen instruments, and can make a whole band 
out of a piano and a guitar. She used to do a little 
dancing, but she broke her leg falling oft' a mule 
goin' over the mountains in Chili, so she's nothing on 
the dancing now. Her brother is as good as I used 
to be on the horizontal bar, and can take a flying leap 
with any man in the profession. My son and I give 
the best parlour entertainment out. There ain't a 
man goin' can beat me at balancing, and my youngster 
is as strong in the muscle as a bunch of Herculeses. 
When we do the statoos, there's neither of us ever 
wink an eye, or stir a hair. Firm as a rock, sir ; 
solid as a bit of iron. Feel that, sir — feel it. That's 
the stuff for statoos." 

The Professor holds up one of his legs and invites 
us to feel the muscles of his calf. With the intention 
of shewing that no impression can be made upon the 
muscular development of that part of his body, he 
punches his calf with the knuckles of his closed hand, 
and applies similar treatment to other parts. We ask 
him for a programme of his performances and receive 
his reply. 



202 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" In three parts, sir. With our talent we can give 
variety. The parlour entertainment and the tumbling 
come last, the statoos first, and in between my son 
plays the concertina, and his brother-in-law does the 
licking the red-hot iron business. There's nothing 
can stand against so much talent. You've heard of 
Madame Anna Bishop, I guess? Well, she and her 
concert party came to Quito on the same night I was 
playing there. Quito is a good city for a pitch, but 
not for two shows at the same time. Madame Anna 
Bishop gave her concert, and we gave our entertain- 
ment. We beat her, sir — beat her hollow. She sang 
songs in about ten languages, and had a strong concert 
party ; but bless you ! in these South American places 
people like to see more than to hear. So we did a 
parade in the daytime, and in the evening my daughter- 
in-law's brother juggled some cannon balls red-hot. 
Talent did it, sir. Quito turned up trumps that 
night." 

We remind the Professor that he has not yet told 
us the story of the Laocoon. He laughs, and plays 
with the diamond rings on his coarse fingers while he 
narrates his story. 

" Well, that was at Bogota. It's a roughish kind 
of a place, is Bogota. It's not quite a dead place, and 
it hasn't got much life in it. The farmers at some of 
the ranches round about are pretty rich, but the people 
haven't the money like they have in the cities further 
south. I guess it was a mistake to build Bogota for 
a capital up in the mountains. Capitals ought to be 
down by the sea. Then they get fresh air and grow. 
That's what's made New York, and New Orleans, and 
Valparaiso." 

We interrupt the Professor by remarking to him 



" PROPERTY SERPENTS." 203 

that the sea has not made much out of Panama. We 
point to its crumbling walls, and then across the railway 
station to where glimmers the Pacific — 

•* Thick set with agate and the azure sheen 
Of Turkis blue and emerald green." 

Whereupon the Professor screws his diamond rings 
around his fingers and remarks — 

" This here ought to be a city, and I guess it will 
be when Uncle Sam gets hold of it. But Bogota will 
never amount to much. The whole country round 
about would only make a big rancheria for Uncle Sam 
to let out in ranches. I gave them a good show in 
Bogota, and the Lakune is just one of the best things 
we do. We've got a property sarpint we carry with 
us. It's very long, elegantly painted, and has a head 
to it that would deceive a sarpint itself. It's made 
out of brass. I had it cast for the purpose. When 
my son and his brother-in-law and I get that sarpint 
twisted round us, and I am made up for the statoo, 
and hold the sarpint's head up high in my right hand, 
and press it so as to make its forked tongue go in and 
out, it's a show, sir, that can't be beaten. It's the 
Lakune to the life, just as natural as ever it was seen 
by anyone." 

" But was it so appreciated in Santa Fe de Bogota?" 
we ask. 

" That's what I'm coming to. We'd got the right 
pitch in Bogota. Our fixin's were all complete. It 
was one of their fete days, and I'd booked the Alcalde 
and all the Ayuntamiento to come and see our show. 
The house was good — very good for Bogota. The 
statoos came first — they were all classic and good. 
New lamps too, to light them up. We gave them 



204 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Hector and Andromash, and Ajax defying the thunder 
and lightning, Herculeses labours, Apollo playing on 
his little harp, the Greek fellow throwing the ball in the 
bowling alley, Virginus sticking his daughter — attitude 
one, two, and three, and then we came to the Lakune. 
Everything had gone off right enough up to then. 
The statoos had all been done smart — right up to the 
handle, and the Lakune was to finish the first part of 
our entertainment. Now, how was I to know about 
a priest having been killed by a boa constructor V 

We are surprised at the sudden manner in which 
the Professor asks a singular question, and mildly 
suggest to him that we are in a state of fog about the 
priest and the " boa constructor/'' not exactly com- 
prehending their relation to the story of the Laocoon. 

" There's where it was/' he continued, rolling up a 
new cigarette as he speaks. " There's where it was. 
What did I know about the priest and his big sarpint? 
Why didn't the Alcalde send to me and let me know ? 
Why didn't he tell me ? I told him the Lakune was 
part of our show. It was his business to have said 
c Don't do it !' How was I to know his brother had 
been killed by a boa-constructor ?" 

" And was that the difficulty ?" we ask. 

" Of course it was," continues the Professor. 
" They've got biggish-sized sarpints in this country. 
They call them boa-constructors — that is, the people 
don't, but the travellers do. I don't think they 
are. But quien sabe ? [who knows ?] as they say 
hereabouts. The priest had been a good old man, 
and was one of the Alcalde's brothers. He had 
gone out in the country to see a poor fellow who was 
dying, and he chanced to fall in the way of a big 
sarpint. Seems he was found dead, with the sarpint 



SLINGING A BOA CONSTRICTOR. 2C5 

twisted round him. Now the moment our curtain 
drew aside, and showed us doing the Lakune, the 
idiots thought we were burlesquing the poor priest. 
We had made the announcement through the curtain 
that we were about to show the Lakune and the 
sarpints, being a copy from the antique; but they 
didn't know anything about antiques, and were as 
ignorant of the Lakune as a dead jackass would be. 
Soon as the curtain opened, and they got sight of us, 
with me holding up the head of the sarpint and 
making the spring tongue work, there was an outcry 
of ' Cuidado ! cuidado ! no hay culebra aqui ! ' which 
means in their lingo, ' Look out, we don't want no 
snakes here V And there w r as a rush at us all at 
once. The Alcalde spoke to his men, and two fellows 
drew their swords upon us : we didn't know whether 
they wanted to kill us or to take us into custody, so 
we unwound our big sarpint quickly, and holding it 
tight by the tail, swung the brass head around us to 
keep off the crowd. Some of the Bogota roughs had 
got their machetas with them, what they use to cut 
wood with, and they made at us, howling like a pack 
of Coyote wolves. ( Hold on, Tom, to the traps !' I 
cried out to my son ; ( hold on, and let me sling the 
sarpint/ And I did sling it — you bet. I slung it 
round and round and round so fast they couldn't see 
which way it was a comin', and I guess them who 
got a knock from the brass head knew what sort of a 
boa- constructor I'd got/' 

" And you escaped safely?" we ask. 

" Just with a few scratches, and a smash up of 
some of my traps. But I tell you what, they don't see 
Professor Riley in that city again. No, sir ! Not if I 
know it will they ever have another Lakune in Bogota/' 



2o6 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XV. 

POKER AND EUCHRE ON THE PACIFIC. 

AFLOAT on the Pacific. Our steamer is the 
Golden Age, whereof Captain Lapidge is com- 
mander. The tender has taken us off to her late in 
the afternoon. We pace the hurricane deck, and 
glance back at the picturesque town we have just 
left. 

Though the Golden Age does not sail till midnight, 
we feel that it is much better to be on board her 
and to lounge about her clean and spacious decks, 
than to saunter in the streets of close, unpleasant- 
smelling and unwholesome Panama. Even the prin- 
cipal thoroughfare of the city is so wanting in stir 
and bustle as to suggest oppressively the idea of death. 
It has none of the characteristics of the chief streets 
of other cities of the same great continent, and is no 
more like the Calle Victoria of Valparaiso, or the Rua 
Direita of Rio de Janeiro, than it resembles the 
Broadway of New York, Canal Street, New Orleans, 
or Montgomery Street, San Francisco. But under 
the enchantment of distance Panama is fair and 
fascinating ; looking at it as we do now, steeped in 
sunlight, sleeping at the foot of a mountain, with 



ON THE PACIFIC 207 

palm-trees- listlessly .waving their large green fronds 
over ruined wall and quaint red- tiled roof, and the 
ripples of the peaceful ocean of the world breaking 
gently on the almost noiseless shores. 

By the light of an unclouded moon, the brilliancy 
of which seems unusual, we steam out of the Bay of 
Panama at midnight, past islands rich with tropical 
foliage, and rocks covered with valuable deposits of 
guano. We are told that this is the island of Taboga, 
on which are the workshops of the company owning 
the English line of South American steamers, and that 
that is the island of Taboguilla, the name of which 
means " little Taboga/'' That, here on one island 
may be seen the lava of an extinct volcano, and that 
on another are the graves of the foreign wanderers 
who have died in Panama, and found on a little island 
in the Pacific peace at last and rest from all ad- 
venture. 

We retire late but rise early with what one of our 
companions phrases as " a noble appetite" for break- 
fast. After breakfast we take a tour of inspection 
along the hurricane deck, which, high up as it is above 
the main-deck of the steamer, is sought by all who 
are not afraid of fresh air, and who are desirous of 
looking at the magnificent scenery, the island of Quibo, 
the promontory of Veraguas, and the distant moun- 
tains of Costa Rica. On board the Golden Age we 
meet most of our fellow-voyagers by the North Star. 
Some who came with us from New York as far as 
Panama have deserted our company to find their way 
to one or other of the South American cities, and 
some have remained behind in New Granada ; but to 
make up for the loss, we have acquired others who 
have come up from the South to join us, and who, 



208 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

like ourselves,, are going in search of dollars to the 
golden land. 

Seated on an American rocking-chair, a book on 
her lap, and her long fingers intertwined, sits the lady 
who is a lecturer on spiritualism. She will persist in 
showing those large white teeth, sunning them, as she 
is doing now, in the sunshine of the tropics, and talk- 
ing meanwhile to a gentleman who, we are told, is a 
very rich government contractor. We notice that she 
has a habit of engaging in conversation with the 
richest and the oldest of the male passengers, and we 
presume the habit to be part of her business in con- 
nexion with her show of rapping-tables, " mediums/* 
and " spirit-circles." We regard those teeth in the 
light of advertising posters, and if we are mistaken 
we beg most sincerely to apologize. 

Here, pacing slowly up and down the deck in 
abstracted mood, and talking in a low tone to him- 
self, is our friend from Philadelphia, w T ho is going out 
to California to start a theatre and produce his own 
hitherto-rejected plays. We suggest to him that as 
there appeared to be no theatre open in Panama, he 
might have made a start there, and might have easily 
obtained a small company from New Orleans or else- 
where. He smiles, and with a knowing look replies : — 

" Not for the child from afar." 

We appreciate his good sense and join him in his 
promenade. 

Day after day we steam along towards the Gulf of 
Tehuantepec. Twelve days from New York, and we 
are off the coffee-tree plantations of Costa Rica. Three 
days more, and away in the distance we catch a glimpse 
of Nicaragua. Sunday arrives ; and as we happen to 
have among our passengers the Rev. Mr. Lee, an 



REHEARSING A FIRE. 209 

Episcopal clergyman, he is called upon to conduct 
religious services on deck under the awning. Then, 
just as we are about to sit down to dinner on Sunday, 
the steam -whistle gives forth a discordant screech, the 
cry of " Fire " is heard, and everyone springing to his 
feet, hastens for the deck. Strangely enough, the 
ladies do not scream, nor manifest any serious alarm. 
When we get upstairs we find that the sailors have 
already taken up their positions, the hose being rapidly 
uncoiled from out of the place in which it was stowed, 
the water-buckets being handed out, the engines stopped 
and the steam-pumps going, the officers issuing orders 
which are instantly obeyed, the boats about to be 
lowered, ourselves taken in charge and assigned to the 
care of so many of the ship's company, the steam- 
whistle still screeching, but no symptom visible of the 
ship being actually on fire — no smoke, no flame, # no 
burning odour, no crackling of wood in process of 
combustion. Then do we learn, though we in part 
suspected it before, that the alarm is a false one, 
simply intended as a rehearsal, to teach everyone what 
to do in case of real calamity, and to see that all the 
ship's officers thoroughly understand their duty in the 
event of emergency. Once again during the voyage a 
similar false alarm is raised, but at night instead of 
mid-day. The calm and collected behaviour of the 
lady-passengers is fully explained when we learn that 
they have been previously forewarned and cautioned by 
the stewardesses, and that many of our female voyagers 
are old travellers on the Pacific. 

Sixteen days from New York and we are off the 
coast of Mexico. There is no wind, the weather is 
intensely hot, the ocean is one huge glittering sheet of 
smooth glass, the sun seems to have acquired an extra 

p 



2io THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

supply of heat, and the Mexican mountains look un- 
comfortably red and fiery. Our latitude is 15 53' N., 
and our ice is a quarter of a dollar a plate, with a 
decided tendency to become a plateful of water in a 
very few minutes after we have purchased it. With a 
plate of ice, a bottle of claret and a few green oranges 
still in stock from among those we bought at Panama, 
existence is made comparatively easy ; but how fares 
it with the poor fellows of whom we catch occasional 
glimpses down in the engine-room below ? Even on 
deck the weather is too warm for the passengers to 
take exercise during the daytime. But down among 
the furnaces the temperature must be almost unen- 
durable, yet there we see the stokers busily at work, 
opening the door of one furnace after another, shovel- 
ling coals into the red-hot iron receptacles, the fire 
lighting up their faces with a fiendish glow and the 
perspiration pouring down their cheeks as if each man 
were becoming metamorphosed into a fountain. Pre- 
sently, one poor man is brought up and laid on the 
deck. The heat below has been too much for him, and 
he has fainted. As he recovers we tender him plates 
of ice, whisky cocktails, and jugs of claret. After- 
wards we learn that he is not used to the stoking 
business; that he is a "stow-away" who smuggled 
himself on board at Panama, having no money with 
which to pay his passage. "When discovered, he had 
been ordered down to the furnaces to assist in feeding 
the fires. Were he a strong man he might be left to 
do the duties assigned to him, but he is thin, weak, 
and bears in his countenance the signs of having 
suffered mentally and physically at no very remote 
period. A showman now comes to his aid. The 
violoncellist who is travelling his instrument in the 



TEE FATE OF A " STOW- AWAY." 211 

case which is to be his coffin, and to whom we have 
already referred, steps forward and proposes that we 
open a subscription at once to pay the passage of the 
" stow-away." Five dollars is the amount which the 
violoncellist himself contributes. In half an hour the 
whole fare is collected, counted out to the clerk on 
board and a ticket for the voyage handed to the penni- 
less man, that he may not go down again among the 
furnaces. When your violoncello- case becomes your 
coffin, as you wish it one day to be, may you sleep 
peacefully in it, good and kindly violoncellist ! 

Strolling round the deck as the day wanes and the 
atmosphere becomes cooler, we notice that many of 
our fellow-passengers are busily engaged in card-play- 
ing. Nothing seems to relieve the tedium of a 
long voyage more effectually with those who are ac- 
customed to excitement than a little gambling. Your 
Californian adventurers are not all of the reading class, 
and many of them would much prefer the labour of 
washing a ton of gold-dust to that of reading a single 
book. Here and there on the steamer we see a man 
with a book in his hand, but where there is one reader 
there are twenty card players. The lady who lectures 
on spiritualism always has her book on her lap. She 
has it just now. Not that she is reading it, for while she 
suns her white .teeth in the rich sunlight of the Pacific 
she is conversing learnedly with a passenger with whom 
we have not previously seen her in conversation. The 
poor man seems to be fascinated by her eloquence and 
will inevitably make on,e more purchaser of a ticket 
to her lectures in San Francisco. 

Here, in almost the same spot on the deck which 
they have occupied every afternoon since we left 
Panama, we see a young couple whom we have ascer- 

p 2 



212 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

tained to be newly married. The lady is very pretty, 
the gentleman very like a man who never has, nor 
ever intends to do mnch hard work. For amnsement 
they have brought with them a small mahogany box of 
circular form, inside which is a rotating wheel painted 
in rays of black and red. Around the periphery of 
the wheels are numerals. The box has a lid to it, and 
in the lid is a small hole. Through this hole in the 
lid the lady drops a pea, causes the wheel to rotate, 
and watches the number at which the pea rests. Then 
the husband performs a similar operation. They are 
playing to see which can soonest make the various 
turns amount to one hundred. When they have com- 
pleted the sum they will begin again, and when tired 
to-day will recommence to-morrow. They must have 
already spun that black-and-red wheel round four or 
five thousand times, and are likely to spin it four or 
five thousand more before they arrive at San Fran- 
cisco. We have our doubts whether they are playing 
for amusement only, or whether to solve some great 
problem of their future fortune. Whether in fact the 
man is not an American Protesilaus, revolving 

" The oracle upon the silent sea," 

and the lady a Laodamia of the present day bound 
for California. Not Mercury, but gold, leading Pro- 
tesilaus back to earth, and Laodamia not likely to be 
willing to go back to Hades with her husband, but to 
try the divorce-court in San Francisco or Sacramento. 
In quiet nooks and secluded corners of the deck 
are groups of bearded men playing the never- tiring 
game of "poker. 1 " It is an open question whether 
the paddles or the screw of an American steamer would 
continue to revolve without some poker-playing on 



THE GAME OF "POKER." 213 

board the vessel. A pack of cards — a " deck " of 
cards as they phrase it across the Atlantic — would 
seem to be as indispensable to a steamer having the 
stars and stripes for its flag and sailing on western 
waters, as the boilers which generate the steam, or the 
machinery used for propulsions And of all games 
played with cards, poker is the one in which your true 
western traveller finds his chief solace and his never- 
failing source of amusement. Tobacco is thought to 
be good to have ; whisky is regarded as a very desir- 
able item, and brandy is by no means objectionable, 
but to the rough-and-ready passengers on board the 
steamer, especially those in the steerage a game 
of poker is better than all. Poker is preferable to 
breakfast, is almost a substitute for dinner, and is 
much superior to supper. Meals have their times and 
seasons, but poker is thought to be good always. It 
must have puzzled many an American to think how 
Robinson Crusoe got along without it. According to 
a Californian's way of thinking, had Friday and Crusoe 
been able to play the game, and had they had a little 
Western training, they would never have tired of the 
island of Juan Fernandez. 

Your showman of the West is seldom one who can 
lay his hand upon his heart and solemnly assert 
that he never once played a game of poker. To pro- 
fess ignorance of a game so sublime, so important and 
so necessary to know, would be to render yourself 
despised in the eyes of the noble backwoodsman, the 
Mississippi trader, or the Californian adventurer. Yet 
common as it is in the western world, poker is a 
game of which very little is known in England. We 
may be pardoned, perhaps, for teaching the elements 
of it in a very few words. 



2i 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

In playing common u Draw-poker" five cards are 
dealt to each player. No trumps are turned up. 
Each player can then make a bet if he pleases. He 
looks at his hand. If he have four aces in it he has 
the strongest hand there can be, and having a cer- 
tainty cannot bet. Four cards of any kind constitute 
a strong hand. Next in value comes a flush. Then 
a " full/' which consists of three of one kind and a 
pair; then three of a kind, next in excellence two 
pairs, and then one pair. Each player can, after 
looking at his hand, discard three cards and take three 
others from the pack. The dealer then makes his 
bet, say five dollars. His opponent can accept it or 
" raise it," saying, " I see your five and raise it to 
fifty." If the dealer object to the raising, he simply 
throws up his cards and loses his five dollars. If he 
accepts his opponent's challenge and shows a winning 
hand, he gains fifty dollars. Poker is purely a betting 
game. There is no memory nor science required, but 
great daring combined with coolness and caution. Study 
your adversary's face, and guess his hand by his features. 
In other respects poker resembles our English game 
of Brag. 

There is another game of cards which our fellow- 
passengers are playing, and some of the lady passengers 
are joining in it. The name of it is Euchre. It is 
not purely a gambling game like poker, in which the 
player " anteys-up" his quarter or half dollar ; but a 
very lively and very interesting mode of using a pack 
of cards for amusement, and purely American in its 
origin. In playing euchre all cards of a lower value 
than seven are first discarded, a two and a three being 
used to mark the five points which constitute the 
game. Five cards are dealt to each player, two at a 



PLAYING "EUCHRE." 215 

time first, and then three. Trumps are then turned 
up. The value of the cards in euchre is not as in 
other games, for the most valuable card of all is the 
knave of trumps, which takes the name of the " right 
bower," while the next in value is the knave of the 
suit of the same colour, which for the time being 
assumes the name of the "left bower." The right 
and left bowers are superior in value to ace, king, and 
queen. In playing, making three tricks scores a 
point, making all the five tricks constitutes " a march," 
and scores double. The game can be played with 
two, three, or four players, When only three play it 
is called " cut-throat euchre." In playing, the " elder 
hand," or first player, after studying his hand and 
finding that with it he cannot, as he thinks, take three 
tricks, either says " I pass," or raps his knuckles on 
the table to express that he does so. But if he per- 
ceives that he has enough trumps in his hand to 
warrant him to believe that he can beat his opponent, 
he says " I order up," when it becomes the duty of 
his opponent to discard a card, face downwards, and 
supply its place in his hand by the card which had 
been turned up for trumps. Should the player who 
" ordered up" fail to make his three tricks he becomes 
"euchred," and loses two points to his antagonist. 
But, supposing that in commencing to play he does 
not u order up," but says " I pass," then the dealer 
has his choice of discarding and taking up the trump 
card, or turning the trump card face downwards on 
the pack. The dealer having done that, his opponent 
can make the trumps as he pleases. For instance, if 
the elder hand perceives that he holds in his hand the 
knave of hearts, the knave of diamonds and the ten of 
hearts, he unhesitatingly says u make it hearts," and 



216 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

hearts at once becomes trumps though spades may 
have been trumps before. But, having made trumps, 
he must take care to win three tricks and score one 
point, else he will be euchred and his antagonist 
triumphantly score two instead of one. Should the 
elder hand decline to make the trumps and " pass" 
again, it falls to the option of the dealer either to de- 
clare new trumps and stand the chance of being euchred, 
or to throw up his hand for the cards to be dealt again. 

We are very well aware that we are not supposed 
to be writing an American edition of " Hoyle's Games," 
and we are equally as well aware that poor Artemus 
Ward knew very little of card-playing, but here are 
our fellow-passengers playing cards everywhere around 
us. The phrases made use of in playing poker and 
euchre are used more than once by Artemus in his 
writings, and we have never seen in any English work 
an explanation of either of the games. To the ear of 
him who has travelled far in the United States, and 
become familiar with the slang of the less cultivated 
classes, many phrases will recur, the exact meaning of 
which can only be understood by him who is acquainted 
with the games of old sledge, poker, and euchre. " Fll 
euchre you/ ; " I pass," " That's my best bower/' and 
" Now then, antey-up," are common expressions, all 
of which owe their origin to American uses of a pack 
of cards. 

A Transatlantic humorist whose writings are par- 
tially known in England, and who hides himself under 
the nom de plume of Josh Billings, expresses his 
opinions on the game of euchre in the following style. 
We copy his statements, but not his mode of spelling: — 

" This ill-bred game is about twenty-seven years 
old. It was first discovered by the deck-hands on a 



ORIGIN OF " EUCHRE." 2 1 7 

Lake Erie steamboat, and handed down by them to 
posterity in all its juvenile beauty. It is generally 
played by four persons, and owes much of its absorb- 
ingness to the fact that you can talk and drink and 
chew and cheat while the game is advancing. 

" I have seen it played on the Hudson River Rail- 
road in the smoking cars with more immaculate skill 
than anywhere else. If you play there you will often 
hold a hand that will astonish you ; quite often four 
queens and a ten spot, which will inflame you to bet 
seven or eight dollars that it is a good hand to play 
poker with; but you will be more astonished when 
you see the other fellow's hand, which invariably con- 
sists of four kings and a one spot. Euchre is a 
mulatto game, and don't compare to old sledge in 
majesty any more than the game of pin does to a 
square church raffle. I never play euchre. I never 
would learn how, out of principle. I was originally 
created close to the Connecticut line in New England, 
where the game of seven-up, or old sledge, was born 
and exists now in all its pristine virginity. I play 
old sledge to this day in its native fierceness. But I 
wont play any game, if I know my character, where a 
jack will take an ace and a ten spot wont count a 
game. I wont play no such kind of game out of 
respect to old Connecticut, my native state." 

With all due respect to Mr. Josh Billings, it is as 
doubtful whether the game of euchre originated on a 
Lake Erie steamboat, as that the game of old sledge 
had its birthplace in Connecticut, but where games 
did originate is really matter for very curious inquiry. 
The spelling of the word " euchre" offers an etymolo- 
gical puzzle ; and where was the game of Besique first 
invented ? Five or six years ago it was advertised in 



2i8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

a shop window in Broadway, New York, as a game 
just imported from France, while in the shop-windows 
of London it is announced at the present moment as 
the " new American game." We believe that there is 
no statue of Columbus in the United States, but 
there will be one some day. Should Americans wish 
to put up a statue out West to the memory of the 
discoverer of poker or of euchre, where will they find 
the portrait from which to make the model ? 



THE DEMONS OF ACAPULCO. 219 



CHAPTER XVI. 

COFFEE-TRAYS AND CIGAR-CASES IN MEXICO 

THE SHOWMAN AT ACAPULCO. 

AN hour past midnight. Sixteen days' travel from 
New York and we are in Mexico. 
No glimpse of the Pacific can be obtained. We are 
in a land-locked harbour. At anchor in a cosy little 
bay, round which rise dark mountains, and over which 
we discern one little patch of sky and a few groups of 
stars. There is no breeze, no movement in the air. 
We seem to be at the bottom of a huge pit where the 
heat is suffocating. Looking over the sides of the 
vessel we perceive troops of dusky demons, each carry- 
ing a torch. Other demons with torches are coming 
off to us in boats, which glide silently over the black 
water. More demons seem to be dancing on the 
shore in the distance. The atmosphere is full of a 
sickening odour of cocoa-nut oil, the heat is that of a 
furnace, and the scene is weird enough for any witch- 
drama or grand hobgoblin spectacle. The red light 
from the demons' torches falls upon the face of the 
lady lecturer on spiritualism, and her teeth are no 
longer white but have a sanguinolent hue. Can it 
be she who has called up the dusky forms which hover 
everywhere around? 



220 TUB GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The place is Acapulco, and yonder in the darkness 
is the old Mexican town, founded by the Spaniards in 
their days of conquest on the Pacific. We shall see 
it when morning breaks, and we shall have a chance 
of landing. Meanwhile let us glance at the scene 
around us. 

Watch the demons with the flambeaux ! They are 
coming close to us. Some of them are about to scale 
the sides of our ship. As they come close to us we 
perceive that they are not demoniac but simply natives 
of the place, very dark in colour, wearing scarcely 
any attire, some having a shirt on and others not, but 
nearly all of them carrying a piece of lighted sugar- 
cane, which, as it burns, throws a lurid light over sur- 
rounding objects. Some of the dark figures are 
engaged propelling towards us heavy barges on which 
are stacked up little bags of coal. W e want 250 tons, 
the captain says. We ask if it is Mexican coal, and 
find that it has been brought from Pennsylvania, and 
made the voyage round Cape Horn. It has been 
shovelled into the bags by women. We want fresh 
water also, and here are more dusky Mexicans ap- 
proaching us with another barge. When they come 
up close with us they screw a hose to the side of our 
vessel, and pump away in the glare of the torchlight. 
We survey the strange scene with a showman's eye, 
and think as we look upon it that if we could only 
transfer it to the stage of Drury Lane or Covent 
Garden, in an appropriate drama by Boucicault, Wilkie 
Collins, Halliday, or Watts Phillips, we know how 
many people would pay to the pit every night for the 
first two months of the run of the piece. 

Day breaks about half-past five. We have slept 
an hour, and awake to find the scene thoroughly trans- 



IN MEXICO. 221 

formed. The dark water of the bay has become bright 
and sparkling, and is beating on a sandy beach. The 
black hills have become covered with verdure and the 
patch of sky overhead is blue and cloudless. Rows of 
cocoa-nut palms are growing close down to the waters' 
edge. Acapulco is peeping out behind a rocky point. 
There are high hills behind us, one with an old fort 
on the top, and there are high hills in front of us, on 
the summit of one of which are the ruins of a battery, 
lately shattered by a French vessel of war. We go 
on shore early in a small boat, which has a flat oblong 
canvas awning to it supported by upright rods. Fifty 
cents is the charge for our boat-ride. With a good 
appetite we step on shore to breakfast in Mexico. 

In Mexico ! Shall we see any traces of Gautemozin, 
Montezuma, or Hernando Cortez ? Shall we have a 
peep at any ruins of a pyramid like to those of Cholula, 
or any palace like to that of Chapultepec ? Nothing 
of the kind here in Acapulco. Ancient as it is, it 
wears no aspect of past grandeur. It is Mexico away 
out on the Pacific. A different sort of thing to the 
Mexico we have seen in days past on the tableland 
of the interior. The houses are mostly one story high 
and are built of " adobe," or mud shaped into bricks 
and dried in the sun. To the right on entering the 
town is " The American Hotel " — a very sorry affair. 
The landlady stands at the door and invites us to take 
a cup of coffee and some cake for twenty-five cents. 
We decline with thanks; but purchase a pine- apple 
for a real, or sixpence, and leisurely eat it as we ramble 
through the town. 

Acapulco is a well-laid out city. The names of 
the streets are painted up legibly, and we have no 
difficulty in finding our way about. We ramble up 



222 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the Calle San Diego, thence into the Calle San 
Francisco, and on through the Calle del Correo and the 
Calle Nueva. Presently we find ourselves in a market- 
place forming an open square, having an old church 
in the middle of it and a well in front of the church. 
Men and women are squatting on the ground selling 
oranges, beans, pumpkin seeds, cocoa nibs for making 
drinkable cocoa, unpurified sugar, candles, fish, and 
meat. The meat presents a most unpleasant appear- 
ance, consisting for the most part of long strips which 
seem to have been torn asunder rather than cut, and to 
have been dried in the sun. There are large lumps of 
offal for sale, and some legs of pork are being chopped 
into small pieces on great stones by very uncleanly 
looking female butchers. Close at hand, on the 
towers of the church, are perched large ugly, black 
turkey -buzzards, waiting in their capacity of scavengers 
for the carrion which will fall to their share. 

There are two hotels ; at either of which we are 
told that we can procure a good breakfast for the 
small cost of a dollar, and at both of which English 
is spoken. We look in first at the Louisiana, and not 
liking that, pass on to the El Dorado. Our breakfast 
consists of stewed chicken, fried eggs, fried bananas, 
raw tomatoes, and coffee. We are waited on by a 
woman of unprepossessing appearance, being thin and 
bony, having very little hair on her head and wearing 
a pair of greasy old black trousers as if she were a 
man. We are told that she is the wife of the pro- 
prietor. The husband waddles towards us with a 
billiard cue in his hand. He is very stout, very 
greasy, and very bluff in his demeanour. We ask him 
if he is an American. 

" I scorn the name," is his reply. " I am a Se- 



A MEXICAN HOTEL-KEEPER 223 

cessher. That's what I am. I'm for the South right 
through me, down to the heel. I reckon thars not 
a drop of Yankee blood to be found in my veins. Not 
the smell of a drop. You see that billiard table thar. 
Captain Semmes, who is scaring the Yanks with his 
Alabama, used to play billiards on that when he war 
in the United States navy, and his ship lay here. 
Here in this room war whar he told me he war off 
to fight for the South. I reckon he'll chaw up every 
ship the Yanks have got before long." 

Having finished breakfast and lighted a cigar, we 
proposed to the landlord that he should take a glass of 
liquor with us, a proposal which he bluffly accepts. 
We wish to try a little pulque, as the fresh juice of the 
maguay is called, but are informed that it can be 
obtained in the interior of the country only. " You 
can have some muscal" says our landlord. Muscal 
we knew to be the fermented juice of the same plant, 
and having tasted it in times past, respectfully decline 
to renew our acquaintance with it. Our host recom- 
mends his brandy, and we try that while we lead him 
into a conversation relative to the political condition 
of this portion of Mexico. 

Acapulco is in the province of Guerrera, the pre- 
sent governor of which is Senor Juan Alvarez, whose 
name we see attached to certain decrees posted up here 
and there in the town. Later in the course of the 
morning we chance to see the Senor, and find him to 
be a stout jolly-looking man, seeming more like a 
negro than a Spaniard or a Mexican, Liberal in his 
politics, belonging to the Juarez party, and holding 
the rank of general in the Liberal army. We also 
learn that he is a gentleman of considerable intelligence, 
a pious Catholic, and a great patron of sport in the 



224 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

way of cock-fighting. We ask our landlord what lie 
thinks of the General. His reply consists of a long 
whistle. We then ask him how he likes the French, 
and whether the French, having recently visited Aca- 
pulco and shelled it, he thinks it to be likely that 
they will come again. 

" They'll be here again in a month and stay for 
good, I hope/ - ' is his reply. " These fellows don't 
amount to anything. When the French came they 
behaved like gentlemen. They asked for water and 
cattle. They whar refused, so they shelled the 
town. Very proper too. They did no harm to any 
house. Our soldiers worked the battery upon the hill 
pretty well, but they vamosed from the battery on the 
shore after the second shell war fired at them. They 
are no good, I tell you. They fight ! It isn't in 
their constitutions. The captain threw away his 
sword and fled. Five people whar all that were left 
in the city. All fled to the hills. French fellows 
whar gentlemen. Yes, sir-ree ! They committed no 
outrages. Here they came and here they sailed away 
again. They paid me for what they had, and I charged 
them double what I charge you." 

In the course of the morning we make the acquain- 
tance of the very courteous American Consul, Mr. Eley, 
and of an American of the name of Rector, who is 
going a hundred and fifty miles into the interior to fit 
up a cotton mill. Presently we drop upon a commu- 
nicative man from Ohio who has travelled all over 
Mexico, and who now owns a small store built of 
adobe, where he is engaged in the manufacture of 
cigars. He informs us that he pays three dollars per 
month for his store, and that his board costs him one 
dollar per day. With ordinary industry he contrives 



VIRGINIA CITY, NEVADA. 



Mate )k. 




This city is an example of that rapid extension so common in America 
Five years previous to Artemus Ward's visit, it had no existence ; when he 
went there, it had 15,000 inhabitants, and three newspapers 



PLAINS BETWEEN VIRGINIA AND SALT LAKE. 




wrJpW e i iS i, bUt ^ h ^ ha F ° n the pkins of Nevada exce Pt that most 
wretched-looking of shrubs, the sage-brush. Our view conveys a good idea 



MEXICAN POLITICS. 225 

to earn four dollars per day, and appears pleased with 
his residence in Acapulco. Around him in his store, 
smoking cigars, are three or four Mexican tradesmen. 
The political state of affairs becomes the topic of con- 
versation, and the expression of opinion amounts 
simply to a strong protest against things as they are, 
and an earnest desire for a complete change. " Let us 
have Napoleon and General Forey, Maximilian, the 
French, the United States, England, or even Spain; 
any would be better than the government we have." 

" But you have a liberal ruler," we observe in reply. 
" On the wall of the Adouana Maritima we noticed a 
picture this morning of your Mexican arms. An eagle is 
fighting with a serpent and has the neck of the serpent 
in its beak. Then there is the red cap of liberty 
emitting rays of sunlight, and the word f Libertad ' on 
it as large as possible. What more can you want?" 

" Take a walk ten miles into the country and you'll 
find," is the answer we get. " ( Libertad ' means leave 
to rob. It means a knife at your throat and your 
purse in another fellow's pocket. That's what 
f Libertad ' means hereabouts. The sooner we get an 
end to it the better." 

The group of smokers in the cigar store and the 
landlord of the hotel are not the only parties to 
express to us a similar opinion in the course of our 
ramble. We begin to suspect that General Alvarez is 
not peculiarly gifted by nature for a ruler, especially 
when we learn that though Acapulco is the great 
Mexican sea-port on the Pacific, there is no highway 
leading from it to the interior, no coach road, no 
coaches, no waggons, no spring-carts, nor any drays. 
The ingenuity of the inhabitants has expended itself 
in getting as far as wheelbarrows and pack-mules. 

Q 



226 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

There arriving, it has come to a pause. Going on at 
the same cheerful rate, under the same enlightened 
government, there may be a railroad in the province 
of Guerrera in five hundred years hence. 

Strolling through the town we notice that the stores 
or shops have iron bars instead of glass windows ; that 
some of the stores are well stocked, and that the 
articles on sale chiefly consist of printed calicos which 
we will warrant came from Manchester, gaudily coloured 
pocket handkerchiefs, boots, shoes, combs, soap, and 
bottles of brandy. There is no attempt at tasteful dis- 
play of the goods, and no restriction with regard to 
variety. 

A walk up the Alameda, along a pleasant road 
shaded by large, branching, gnarled trees, brings us to 
the Fort, whither we have come to have a peep at the 
soldiers of the Republic. Nine of them are guarding 
the gate. Nine brave, noble, stalwart, martial 
defenders of " Libert ad." The tallest is not more than 
five feet six ; all of them look as if fighting would be 
less congenial to them than cigar smoking, and they 
loll on the drawbridge, each with a modest droop of 
the head as though they were much disposed to meditate 
on the vanity of all Mexican affairs. The soldiers of 
General Alvarez and of " Libert ad" are clothed in 
white shirts, and have no trousers. On the head of 
each is a black sombrero, and across the chest of each 
is a black strap, to which is attached the sheath of a 
bayonet. One of them is armed with a rusty musket. 
We ask to pass into the fort, but are refused admission, 
being told that sickness prevails inside. On the wall 
of the fort we notice a single cannon ; while in the 
bush and scrub outside the walls are four or five more 
cannon, and as many broken gun carriages reposing 






COCK-FIGHTING PRIESTS. 227 

peacefully among the verdure, asserting the cause of 
" Libertad" in graceful tranquillity. 

We walk round the fort and turn down into a 
pretty valley wherein there are cottages thatched over 
with palm leaves, cocoa-nut palms shading the roof of 
each, and little gardens in which oleanders are in full 
bloom. Presently we find ourselves again in the 
Calle Nueva, a long straggling street with adobe huts 
on each side of it. We cross the Calle del Correo, 
and pass along the Calle San Francisco to the back of 
the old church. Here we fall in again with our friend 
from Ohio, and with the landlord of one of the 
American hotels. W r e have just seen what the martial 
element of Acapulco is like. There is an old priest 
passing into the church, and we are prompted to make 
inquiries relative to the religious portion of the com- 
munity. 

" Have you a hard-working clergy in this part of 
the world 1" we ask. 

" Well/'' replies our American acquaintance, " they 
are pretty good at chicken-disputes."" 

" What kind of argument or exercise is that ?" we 
innocently inquire. 

" Why, I reckon it's cock-fightin\ They go in 
well for cock-fightin\ We've got some fine old 
priests out in the country parts, who own each of 
them a hundred or two of the finest cocks for fightin' 
you ever saw/' 

As we saunter with our companions across the plaza 
some bright-eyed Mexican girls advance towards us, 
and in the most polite manner make us a present of 
some common steel or iron pins, each with a lump of 
sealing-wax or piece of glass for a head to it. We 
wonder what the gift means, but are soon given to 

Q 2 



228 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

understand that the generous-hearted young ladies 
expect a present of money in return, and that 
Acapulco etiquette dictates that the amount of money 
should be twice or thrice the value of the gift we have 
accepted. Whereupon we bless the generous hearts 
of all the young damsels who afterwards accost us, and 
nobly refuse to deprive them of any more wax-headed 
pins. It may not be etiquette for us to do so, but 
we have that within us which conquers etiquette. 

As we return to the hotel to refresh after the long 
ramble through the dusty little town, we suddenly re- 
member that we have not as yet posted up the name 
of Artemus Ward in Acapulco. We have a couple of 
bills with us, ready for the purpose, and producing one 
of them, request our friend from Ohio to oblige by 
having it displayed in some prominent part of the town. 

" Entertainments are no use here/' says the kindly 
cigar-maker. " A game of monti or a good chicken 
battle is all these fellows care about. 1 " 

" Do you never have any shows stop here V we 
inquire, with an eye to business. 

" They wouldn't get much if they came,"" is the 
reply. "And if your friend does come with his 
show, don't let him bring any coffee-trays or cigar- 
cases." 

This last piece of cautious advice puzzles us exceed- 
ingly. Why Artemus Ward should bring or should 
not bring a coffee-tray or a cigar-case with him is a 
question which does not readily suggest an answer. 
We assure our adviser that we have never once con- 
templated the importation of any such articles into 
Acapulco, and request to know why we have received 
the caution. 

* Well, we had a fellow with a show come here 



COFFEE-TRAYS AND CIGAR-CASES. 229 

some months ago/' answers our informant. " He 
came across the country, and had been travelling in 
the interior with two mules. He'd got a magic 
lantern for a show, and had sent on to him here a con- 
signment of little coffee-trays and cigar-cases. The 
trays and the cases were prettily painted, and looked 
worth a lot of money. On the cigar-cases was a por- 
trait of Juarez, and on the middle of each coffee-tray 
was a picture of the Virgin sitting on the Mexican 
eagle and cactus. He was a smart Yankee, who had 
seen a good deal of the world, and spoke Spanish 
better than any of these natives. So he got up a 
lottery. These people like lotteries. He showed his 
magic lantern, charged two reals to see it, and gave 
every one who came a ticket for a chance in his 
lottery, which was to come off on the last day of his 
being here. So many of the Juarez cigar-cases and 
ever so many of the coffee-trays, with the Virgin 
sitting on the Mexican eagle and cactus, were to be 
drawn for on the last day of his stopping among us. 
Nobody wanted coffee-trays or cigar-cases here, but 
they looked so pretty many thought they'd like to 
have one. He showed up his magic lantern and he 
sold his tickets. He was right smart, and managed 
the thing well. The lottery was drawn, and the people 
got their coffee-trays and cigar-cases. The day after 
the lottery the fellow vamosed this ranch, and went up 
to" Manzanillo in the steamer." 

" And why should not another showman come and 
give away coffee-trays and cigar-cases ?" we ask of 
our friend. 

" There was his artfulness. That was what he was 
smart in. But it wont do for any other estr anger to 
try it here again in a hurry. You see, he had those 



2 3 o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

trays and cases made for selling in the city of Mexico, 
or Vera Cruz, or Guadalupe, or somewhere where the 
French were, or where the people were for Miramon 
or his party. The cigar-cases looked so pretty as to 
make the fellows who won them carry them about to 
show to others. In carrying, the paint rubbed off bit 
by bit, and before many days there weren't the like- 
ness of Juarez among the whole lot of ; em. They'd 
all turned into Miramon/'' 

" And the coffee-trays with the Virgin sitting on 
the Mexican eagle and cactus. How about them V* 

" Well, they looked pretty too. I reckon the 
women who got them set a great deal of value by 
them. They rubbed the picture on them every day 
to keep it clean and bright. The first few rubs made 
a moustache come upon the Virgin's face. A few 
rubs more and her hands, which were clasped together 
in front of her throat, changed into a pointed beard. 
The eagle and cactus soon rubbed away altogether. 
Instead of the Virgin they'd got the Emperor 
Napoleon, just the same as he sits on his throne at 
Paris, in France." 

" And did not they like him for a picture quite as 
well?" 

" Like him ! Well, I reckon not. Nor the pic- 
tures of Miramon neither. It was as good as treason 
to have them. You might look a considerable time 
for one of them coffee-trays or cigar-cases in Acapulco 
just now. Don't let your friend try to have them 
with any more picture lotteries." 

We assure our kind adviser that Artemus Ward 
does not intend attempting any such enterprise, and 
again make a request that the poster announcing that 
"Artemus Ward will Speak a Piece" shall be duly 



USES OF PEPPER-SAUCE. 231 

posted in the town. We are promised that our wish 
shall be complied with, and being in Mexico, and at a 
fonda where we can get frijoles and tortillas, we order 
a lunch, previously to embarking. 

" You want some pepper-sauce with those frijoles/' 
suggests an American. 

" Why do the Mexicans take so much pepper- 
sauce ?" we ask. u Surely the climate is warm enough 
outside without the people peppering their interiors." 

" It's good for them when they travel/'' replies a 
neighbour. " If they go dead on the read, the vul- 
tures or the turkey -buzzards won't eat them. They 
are too well seasoned for anything to touch, and they 
keep without burying." 

After lunching we proceed to dispose of our second 
poster by fastening it up on the wall of the fonda. 
The landlord looks at it attentively and says, "What 
is this Artemus Ward ? Is he a United States' 
officer ?" 

We pause for a moment and then make answer — 
" He's a general." For we know that he must have 
a title to be considered anybody, and nothing less than 
a general will serve our purpose. 

" Then if he's coming along by the next steamer," 
says our host, " we'll get him to express his senti- 
ments. The sooner this place and all the rest of the 
land belongs to the United States the better. If he's 
big on the stump we'll get him to give our people a 
monition." 

About noon we steamed out of Acapulco. When 
two weeks later Artemus Ward arrived in San Fran- 
cisco, we asked him how he was received in Acapulco 
and if he was called upon to give a " monition " to 
the people. 



232 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" Why did you put them up to such nonsense V } 
he replied. " That old fellow at the hotel saluted me 
as general, and called upon me to make a speech to 
a crowd of his friends. I said a few words to humour 
him, and thought I was doing him a good turn by 
advising them all to go in and take a drink to sup- 
port the house. They all did. They took two drinks 
each. "When I was just about going, the hotel-keeper 
stopped me. He said all his friends had taken their 
drinks but none of them had paid. It cost me seven 
dollars for that f monition/ Don't make me a ( general * 
any more." 



OFF THE COAST OF CALIFORNIA. 233 



I 

» 

CHAPTER XVII. 

LANDING THE SHOW IN CALIFORNIA. 

ACAPULCO behind us, and again we are on the 
Pacific. Eighteen days out from New York, and 
still steaming past the rocky coast of Mexico. A 
grand and interesting coast along which to steam or 
sail. We pass Manzanillo, and about nine miles be- 
yond it get a glimpse through a telescope of the wreck 
of the fine steamer once famous as the Golden 
Gate, but which caught fire at sea and was burnt 
some few months ago. We fully value the precautions 
against fire observed on board the vessel on which we 
voyage. 

Bright and clear in the air of early morning, we 
discern at a distance of nearly a hundred miles the 
peak of the great Mexican volcano, far away in the 
province of Jalisco. The captain points it out to us. 
" That's Mount Colima," says he. " It's sixteen 
thousand feet high. That and Popocatapetl, which is 
seventeen hundred feet higher, are the two biggest 
hills in Mexico." 

The morning being very warm, the white snow on 
the summit of the volcano of Colima tempts us to wish 
that with an alpenstock in hand we were scaling its steep 



234 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

sides. Albert Smith made the ascent of Mont Blanc 
— how would the scaling of Colima do for a show ? 

Twenty days on our voyage. We have crossed the 
Gulf of California and at early morning are off Point 
Falso, Cape St. Lucas, the southern extremity of 
Lower California. Just after breakfast we pass the 
steamer Oregon, from San Francisco bound to Mazat- 
lan, La Paz, Guaymas, and other places in the Cali- 
fornian Gulf. No land could be more unpromising 
in appearance than California, as we first see it here at 
Cape St. Lucas. Huge masses of white slaty-looking 
rock are piled up heap upon heap, each vast pile of 
rock having a jagged summit. There is no vegetation 
whatever ; neither tree nor grass. Down by the shore 
the rock has been washed by the waves into a fine 
white sand. The shore is white, the land is white, 
the hills are white. With the fiercely bright sun 
glaring on all the ghastly whiteness the scene is in- 
tensely suggestive of arid sterility and dreary deso- 
lation. 

A sperm whale makes its appearance. One of the 
officers of the vessel informs us that this is a great 
fishing ground for whalers, and that many fishermen 
land on Cape St. Lucas. Forlorn and barren as the 
place appears to be, there are fertile valleys inland, far 
away behind the hideous white rocks. 

In the evening we pass the island of Santa Mar- 
guerita. We have left the tropics and are now in the 
temperate zone. White coats disappear from the decks, 
and passengers array themselves again in the sombre 
warm garments they wore when leaving New York. 

Monday, October 26. — Twenty-three days from 
New York. It is afternoon. We are passing between 
two islands ; Santa Cruz is on our port side and Santa 






SOME OZONE ABOUT. 235 

Rosa on our starboard. We anticipate arriving at 
San Francisco by midnight to-morrow. Late at night 
we see the friendly rays of the lighthouse on Point 
Concepcion, and retiring to rest, wake up early the 
next morning to spend our last day at sea. 

A sky of cloudless azure and a sea of merry waves 
dancing in the streaming sunlight. The atmosphere 
fully charged with some powerful invigorative force, 
which produces a sensuous feeling of how good a thing 
it is to live, and breathe, and be one among the 
millions of humanity. "We feel the air of California 
to be even more valuable than its gold, and its sky to 
be more resplendent than the riches of its rocks. Yet, 
in a few days, November will be here. We think of 
the Novembers we have known in England, and we 
bless the good fortune which has floated us thus far on 
the North Pacific. We have seen the brightest sky 
of the Mediterranean and have experienced the ex- 
hilarating influence of the atmosphere of Australia, 
but never have we felt more than we do to-day that 
the consciousness of existence is in itself a source of 
positive delight, and that merely to breathe is luxury 
in the superlative degree. 

" Guess there's considerable ozone about to-day/' 
remarks a friend at our elbow. 

We reply, that we are not aware whether it is 
" ozone " or what it is ; but that there is something 
very bracing in the air, causing a sensation, nearly 
akin to that produced by a slight excess of cham- 
pagne. 

u That's so," rejoins our friend. " It makes a man 
feel good. They do drink an awful lot of champagne 
in 'Frisco. Maybe the gas out of the bottles gets 
into the air and floats out to sea." 



236 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

We doubt the correctness of our fellow-traveller's 
hypothesis ; but feel too good-natured and too full of 
amiability to discuss the question with him. Enough 
for us to experience as we glide over the sparkling 
waters that which Byron phrases as 

" The exulting sense, the pnlse's maddening play- 
That thrills the wanderer o'er the trackless way." 

We feel that we are strong in the nerves and can en- 
dure this sort of " thrill v to an indefinite extent. 

We are off that part of the coast of California 
which is situated in the county of San Luis Obispo, 
and are approaching the Bay of Monterey. Can it be 
that the hills hereabouts are coated with gold, and 
that the mountains which slope down to the sea are 
covered with layers of golden ore ? If not so, why 
have they that golden glow in the mid-day sun- 
light ? 

We borrow an opera-glass from the lady who lectures 
on spiritualism, and look at the golden hills. Glance 
number one reveals to us that the surface has a slight 
undulatory motion; while glance number two, with the 
glass better focussed, satisfies us that California has sown 
her wild oats very plenteously, and that they are ripen- 
ing in rich harvest on her mountain slopes. Being a 
young state of the Union, she can afford to be thus 
lavish with her wild oats. Here on the rock-walls 
which shield her from the sea, there are oats enough 
to feed all the mustangs of Mexico, or all the steeds 
of Arabia. 

Nine o'clock in the evening, and we see a bright 
light in the distance. It proceeds from the lighthouse 
on the North Head of the entrance to the harbour of 
San Francisco. The mountains behind it are three 






THE GOLDEN GATE. 237 

thousand feet in height. In majestic grandeur they 
sentinel the approach to one of the fairest and most 
flourishing cities in all the Western world. 

Half-past ten o'clock and we are steaming through 
the Golden Gate, the " Portal to the Paradise of 
Plutus/' to use the pleonastic alliteration of one of the 
local newspapers. The gateway is not broad, but very 
grand. The rocky hills which form the gate-posts on 
each side are bold in outline, and admirably adapted 
by nature for the defence of the entrance. We regret 
as we steam through, that we cannot affix a large- size 
announcement bill on each of those posts of the Golden 
Gate in accordance with Artemus Ward's suggestion. 
Were it possible to accomplish the feat, we should feel 
much satisfaction in attaching one large poster to the 
wall of the lighthouse on the left, and another to that of 
the fortress on the right. Both headlands could be con- 
verted into very noble bill-posting stations for the 
information of all who come to California. It is 
almost wondrous that some enterprising speculator 
from New England has not made a tender for them. 
The idea is not a romantic one, but eminently 
practical. 

As yet we cannot see the city of San Francisco. 
It is round a promontory, where the bay curves to the 
southward. On a solitary rock in the middle of the 
strait through which we are passing, is Fort Alca- 
traz. Far away in the distance, shadowy in the moon- 
light is Monte Diabolo, and here in front of us is the 
island of Yerba Buena. A few minutes more and the 
lights of the great city burst upon us, flashing along 
the shore and glistening from terrace upon terrace, 
where reposes beautiful San Francisco on her throne 
of hills in an amphitheatre of rock, with a foot- 



238 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

stool of richly laden wharves and warehouses stored 
with accumulations of all the treasures of the Pacific. 

As we steam up to our anchorage, one of the passen- 
gers, who happens to be a very well-informed Califor- 
nian citizen, obligingly details to us how the bay 
received its name. He tells us that in the year 1769 a 
certain Friar Juan Crespi, started from San Diego with 
instructions to found a mission at Monterey. Travelling 
up the coast northward, he arrived at the place to 
which he had been sent, but found that the harbour 
was not a good one. Friar Crespi mingled ideas of 
commerce with his zeal for the propagation of the 
Christian faith, and determined to seek a better place 
for shipping still further north than Monterey. Plod- 
ding on patiently through what are now known as 
Santa Cruz, Santa Clara_, and San Mateo, the good old 
priest came to a bay of glorious size with a harbour of 
corresponding excellence. He believed himself to be 
the first white man who had seen it, adopted it at once 
as the site of his future mission, and named it after 
the founder of the order to which he himself belonged 
— San Francisco. 

Still the old mission stands, and the bay that Friar 
Crespi named just one hundred years ago has given 
its own name to that of a city, in the streets of which 
are to be seen the latest fashions of Paris, — a city 
certainly not behind any other in the world in 
its possession of the good things that tend to make 
life pleasant, and the act of living a continuous occu- 
pation of rose-gathering. 

Dear old Fngland of ours ! Why do you so often 
play the part of the Fat Boy in " Pickwick/' and fall 
asleep so frequently ? Had you been but wide awake 
this California in which we now are would have not 



RAILWAYS TO TEE PACIFIC. 239 

belonged to the Spaniard, nor to the American, but 
to you. The treasure was in your hands — the prize 
was at your feet. You did not stoop to pick it up, 
nor close your fingers upon it when it was within your 
grasp. Your own adventurous mariners ploughed these 
waters of the northern Peaceful Ocean, and returned 
to tell you of the rich possessions at your command. 
Still, to the present time, the memory of your loss 
survives in the name of a picturesque indentation of 
the coast not far north of San Francisco, where the 
waters of the Pacific shine at noon and surge at mid- 
night in Sir Francis Drake's Bay ! 

The Golden Age has come safely to her moorings 
off the wharf at the bottom of Folsom Street, San 
Francisco. We have all thanked Captain Lapidge for 
his courteous attentions during a pleasant voyage of 
three thousand miles, and are each eagerly desirous of 
stepping on shore. Twenty-four days have passed since 
we left New York, during which time we have travelled 
more than five thousand miles, going down the North 
American Continent on one side and up it on the other. 
The time is near at hand when travellers who wish to 
pass from New York to California will no longer come 
by the route we have taken. The Pacific Railroad 
will be an accomplished fact; the iron horse will 
career across the plains, snort on the summit of the 
Rocky Mountains, and neigh in locomotive fashion 
amidst the snows of the Sierra Nevada. 

Where again are you, dear drowsy England ? You 
should have had a railway already in course of con- 
struction, if not already completed, from one side to 
the other of that British America which you hold in 
separate colonies, from Canada westward through the 
valleys of the Saskatchewan to British Columbia, where 



2 4 o TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

you have gold mines of your own. The engineering 
difficulties are not equal to those which the Americans 
have to encounter in building their iron way, and you 
have wealth enough at your command to engage all 
the labour that would be required. The time must 
come when there will be a highway for the steam- 
engine straight through from Halifax, Nova Scotia, to 
New Westminster on the Fraser River — England's 
own road to China and Japan. France may gain an 
engineering glory in marrying the Mediterranean to 
the Red Sea, but England will have a greater triumph 
with her engineering army when she has completed 
two parallel rows of iron bands, extending through 
her own possessions from the Atlantic to the Pacific. 

From Folsom Street wharf we drive to the Occidental 
Hotel, where we at once find ourselves to be at home. 
No better hotel do we wish to stop at, in whatever 
part of the world we wander. We announce our re- 
lationship to the showman's fraternity, and are gladly 
welcomed. Our arrangements are soon made. A 
nice commodious room is assigned to us, and we are 
free of the house for the sum of two dollars and a 
half per day, payable in gold. Greenbacks are not 
current in California. There is a State law that pay- 
ments shall be made in coin. As a matter of course 
it cannot override the Federal enactment, by which 
greenbacks are made legal currency throughout the 
Union, but Californians accept greenbacks at a dis- 
count to pay taxes with and to trade with their 
brethren in the East. Amongst themselves the golden 
dollar and the beautiful twenty -dollar gold piece are 
the coins in daily use. They have a mint of their 
own in which to coin them ; and the letter " S" on 
the face of them attests to their being coined in San 



THE OCCIDENTAL HOTEL. 241 

Francisco. Money coined at New Orleans has an 
" O" upon it, while that coined at the great mint in 
Philadelphia is without any distinctive letter. There 
are but three mints in the United States. 

For the English reader to understand what we 
get for two dollars and a half per day at the Occi- 
dental Hotel, it is necessary to take a cursory peep at 
the hotel itself. So very different is it in its arrange- 
ments from that which an untravelled man might 
expect to find far away out here on the extreme western 
edge of civilization. 

There are five brothers of the name of Lei and who 
are engaged in hotel business in the United States. 
They have establishments in New York, at Saratoga, 
here in San Francisco, and elsewhere. In New York 
they conduct the great Metropolitan Hotel in Broad- 
way, inside which, like a kernel in a nut, is the theatre 
known as Niblo's Garden. The Lelands have a special 
talent for hotel-keeping. It seems to have been born 
in their blood, and — vires acquirit eundo — to develope 
itself with more force the more hotels they build. 
The Occidental, San Francisco, is managed, at the 
time of which we are writing, by Mr. Louis Leland, 
who is at hand ready to receive his guests just arrived 
by the steamer. An air of sumptuous splendour and 
easeful comfort strikes us immediately we enter the 
doors, as being characteristics of the house. Newly 
built, only a portion of the intended edifice completed, 
and the grand staircase not yet opened, the Occidental 
is but an incomplete sample of that which it is in- 
tended to be. The interior fittings are those of a 
first-class hotel; the bedrooms are airy, the beds soft 
and large ; the salle-a-manger is a spacious hall, with 
elaborate embellishments and columns of noble pro- 

R 



2 4 2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

portions. There are breakfast-rooms and supper- 
rooms, hot and cold baths for everybody, well- carpeted 
stairs, elegant drawing-rooms for the use of the ladies, 
pianos of the best manufacture, and lounges and 
rocking-chairs of the most luxurious ^construction. 
The attendance is far better than in most English 
hotels, with none of that bowing and scraping servility 
among the waiters which constitutes the most offensive 
form of attention. Our two dollars and a half per 
day includes attendance. The waiters do not expect 
to receive a gratuity for every little act of duty they 
may chance to perform ; but if they know you to 
belong to a show and likely to give them a free pass, 
they will shower upon you every civility they can 
manifest. 

Americans have a cuisine of their own; not always 
acceptable to Europeans. The dishes are not such as 
an Englishman is accustomed to at home, and to some 
of them he may very possibly object. If he is fas- 
tidious about having his joint roasted instead of baked 
he is likely to meet with disappointment in the course 
of his American travel. Should he like his beef 
underdone, he may feel annoyed at Americans liking 
theirs well done and at the cook sending up the meat 
brown instead of red. To compensate for these little 
drawbacks he will find more than a balance of advan- 
tage in the copiousness of the menu and the numerous 
luscious dishes peculiar to the Western continent. 
There is no roast turkey in Europe comparable with 
the roast turkey of the United States, and there is no 
vegetable so delicious as a cob of green corn served 
up hot *on a white napkin with butter, pepper, and salt. 
Here, at the Occidental Hotel, the bill of fare com- 
prises everything which the Pacific coast produces, and 



HOTEL MUSEUMS. 243 

any number of luxurious dainties imported from Europe. 
The tables groan with good things — with beef from 
Contra Costa and potatoes from Bodega, with richly- 
tinted apples from "Oregon and the juiciest of grapes 
from Sonoma, with strawberries from Oakland and 
peaches from Marysville. There is breakfast to be had 
at any hour of the morning, with any dainty or any 
number of dainties you may please to select to ac- 
company it. The milk rich, the butter magnificent. 
There is luncheon at mid-day, the tables covered with 
tempting dishes and the best of fruits. At dinner the 
dishes are numerous, and the dessert one to which 
Apicius might sit down and be happy, or Lucullus him- 
self feel that he had done the right thing in coming 
to California. When you express a desire for tea you 
are furnished with some of the rarest flavour and fra- 
grance ; and when you come in late and seek your 
supper you will find it waiting for you, laid out in the 
very best style. All these we obtain for two dollars 
and a half per day. 

But there is more to be had for your money yet. 
Pass downstairs and you will find a large reading-room 
furnished with newspapers from all parts of the United 
States, and with magazines of every description. Here 
too you will find the latest numbers of the Times, 
Punch, and the Illustrated News that have arrived 
from England. Do you want to know how they 
are getting on with the war in Virginia or Kentucky ? 
Here are the latest telegrams posted on the wall, and 
here are abstracts of the state of the money-market 
in New York this morning, and of the discus- 
sions in Congress yesterday. Here too in the 
same reading-room is a telegraph office if you wish 
to send a message ; here are desks for writing, and a 

B 1 



244 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

library if you desire to read a hook. More still beyond. 
Pass into this back apartment and you are in a museum 
of the mineral products of California. With most 
commendable care for the comfort of his guests, Mr. 
Leland has provided a collection of specimens of every 
variety of gold ore from the different diggings of Cali- 
fornia, and with properly labelled exemplifications of 
the various rocks and earths to be found throughout 
the State. There is more information to be obtained 
in this room in one hour, relative to the geology of the 
Pacific coast, than a week of reading would furnish. 
Then, the excellence of the idea — a museum in the 
hotel ! and we get it all for two dollars and a half 
per day. We know that some people pay three, and 
some a little more, but we do not. 

Fresh from our voyage, and about to part with plea- 
sant acquaintances whom we have become familiar 
with during our ocean trip, we descend to the bar to 
partake of a social glass. Were we in England we 
should order it into our room, but being in California 
we do nothing of the kind. The bar is the right 
place at which to take it, and to the bar we go. Our 
host accompanies us ; for no one better than he knows 
how to speed the parting guest, or welcome the 
coming one. 

Ubi mel, &c. The bar is fitted up with great taste, 
and the good things with which it is stocked are 
numerous, consequently full a score of the gentlemen 
passengers by the Golden Age have already found their 
way there. It is a commodious apartment, luxuriously 
appointed, scrupulously clean, and radiant with white 
marble, gilt fixtures, and glittering crystal. No- 
thing to remind one of the garish glare of polished 






BAB-KEEPING AS ONE OF TEE FINE ARTS. 245 

brass, the greasy mahogany, or the unpleasant odour 
of black beetles, occasionally to be met with in hotel 
bars of certain English towns. 

Behind the counter is one of the most distinguished, 
if not the chief, of American " bar-tenders." His name 
is Jerry Thomas — a name as familiar in the Eastern 
States as it now is out here in California. Bar-tend- 
ing, as it is called, is an art in the United States, 
and Mr. Jerry Thomas is an accomplished artist. 
In the manufacture of a ' ' cocktail," a " julep," a 
" smash," or an " eye-opener," none can beat him, 
though he may have successful rivals. For instance, 
there is Mr. William Pitcher, of the Tremont House, 
Boston, who because he has obtained proficiency in the 
making of cocktails and is accustomed to make them 
for the students of Harvard, and for other learned im- 
bibers, mingles Greek with his gin, and entitles himself 
on his card " Professor of Kratisalectronouratation." 
But Mr. Jerry Thomas is author as well as artist, and 
has written a work on the art of compounding drinks. 
He is clever also with his pencil as well as with his 
pen, and behind his bar are specimens of his skill as a 
draughtsman. He is a gentleman who is all ablaze 
with diamonds. There is a very large pin, formed of 
a cluster of diamonds, in the front of his magnificent 
shirt, he has diamond studs at his wrists, and gorgeous 
diamond rings on his fingers. Diamonds being " pro- 
perties " essential to the calling of a bar-tender in the 
United States. Unless he already possesses them it 
is said that no member of the craft can expect to 
attain to a high-class position. Mr. Jerry Thomas we 
are told can command his hundred dollars, or twenty 
pounds weekly, for wages. It must be remembered 



246 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

however that he is in Calif brnia, and that he is en- 
gaged as a " star." The interest on the value of his 
diamonds is worth the money. 

In the Boston Theatre there is a large central 
chandelier. I have heard it said as a joke that bar- 
tenders and negro minstrels avoid the Boston Theatre 
on its account. It is heart-breaking to them that 
they cannot have a diamond breast-pin as large, or 
wear the chandelier instead. 

We are recognised by an old acquaintance whom 
we have met before in Nevada City among the mines. 

u Come to engineer another show ?" he asks. 

We reply in the affirmative, and being requested to 
state what show, we publish that Artemus Ward is our 
hero, and that he will be here shortly. 

" He'll do, you bet," asserts our interrogator. 
" He's sound on the goose too — isn't he ?" 

We know that the question has to do with the 
political principles of Artemus Ward, and we boldly 
declare that his soundness is unimpeachable. 

" Then we'll drink to his success, and I'll shake 
hands with him when he comes. Gentlemen, order 
your drinks. Here's the old toast — ( Thus we cross 
the Yuba V Success to Artemus Ward." 



AN ENTHUSIASTIC IRISHMAN. 247 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

WAKING THE ECHOES IN SAN FRANCISCO, 

FOUR or five o'clock in the morning was about 
the time. 

The place was the Occidental Hotel in San 
Francisco. 

I had scarcely had three hours' sleep when I was 
roused by some one shaking my arm and saluting me 
familiarly, saying, 

" How are you, old boy ? Just heard you had 
arrived. Was down at the steamer, but did not see 
you. Glad to see you back among us. Fve brought 
you up a cocktail. Just had a nice stiff one made 
on purpose for you." 

The speaker was an enthusiastic young Irishman 
engaged on the Alt a California newspaper. During 
a previous visit to San Francisco he had rendered me 
some literary assistance, and was always ready to 
tender his aid in furthering the interests of a show- 
man. 

*"Just got through at the paper," he continued. 
"Was going home to bed. Heard you were here, 
and came along at once to be the first to shake 
hands. You are going to sling us Artemus Ward — 
are you?" 



248 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

I replied that I had come to San Francisco as the 
precursor of that gentleman, and expected him to 
arrive by the next steamer. 

"Well, my boy, well put him through. Well 
bedazzle him with Californian glory, and show him 
the ropes as well as give him the rocks. We want a 
new sensation. Had nothing lately except Menken. 
Finish your cocktail, and let me go down and get you 
another. They'll make one for me here at any hour. 
Artemus Ward coming. Well, that's mighty good ! 
Well wake the echoes for him and give him a good 
time." 

I thanked my warm-hearted friend for his expres- 
sions of good will ; declined to accept another cock- 
tail at that unseemly hour, and begged to be allowed 
to go to sleep, having had very little rest the previous 
night. With reluctance the echo-waker shook hands 
and departed, consenting to forego " waking the echoes" 
until later in the day. 

After breakfast came the task of opening up the 
campaign in California. There was much to be done, 
and done quickly. Artemus would be in San Francisco 
by the next steamer. Everything must be pre- 
pared for his arrival. One great point had to be 
ascertained with promptitude, and that was whether 
Artemus Ward should " speak his piece" at his own 
risk and venture, or whether a speculator was to be 
found who would buy him up at a price so good as to 
render it better to accept a certainty than to take the 
chances of success or failure without any one but our- 
selves being interested in the enterprise. 

There were good reasons if a liberal entrepreneur 
could be found, that the business should be left in his 
hands. Though I knew California very well from 



A SHOWMAN'S AGENDA. 249 

previous experiences there, and though how to launch 
and to steer an entertainment had been my study for 
some years, San Francisco had altered somewhat since 
I had last visited it, and a local manager was likely to 
know better than a comparative stranger the mode of 
commanding a large audience, and of working the 
venture successfully. To find such a speculator, the 
best method of procedure seemed to be to have my 
arrival in San Francisco announced at once in the 
evening paper, as well as the object of my coming, 
and the hotel at which I was residing ; then to allow 
twenty-four hours to pass away, and wait to see what 
fish would nibble at the bait. 

On a slip of paper I noted down the agenda of the 
day. That which was to be done first coming first 
in order. 

1. To send a telegram across the Continent to New 
York to announce to anxious friends the safe arrival 
in California. 

2. To call at the San Francisco Evening Bulletin 
office, and secure the insertion of a paragraph stating 
that Artemus Ward is coming, that his avant-courier 
is here, and that head-quarters are at the Occidental 
Hotel. 

3. To call at the Opera House, see Mr. Thomas 
Maguire, the Manager, who telegraphed to Artemus 
Ward in New York to ask what "he would take," 
and ascertain if Mr. Maguire would be willing to make 
a good offer. 

4. To unpack the box in which were the hundred 
copies of Artemus Ward, His Book, on the title-page 
of each of which was written " With the compliments 
of the Author." Then to take a conveyance, go round 
the city, present the letters of introduction I had 



250 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

brought with me, as well as call on old influential 
friends and leave a copy of the book as a present 
wherever the so leaving it would be productive of 
good results, or — to use the language of my Hibernian 
friend, assist in " waking the echoes." 

5. To be sure to call first on the Rev. Mr. Starr 
King, the most popular preacher in San Francisco, 
and for whom I had a special copy of Artemus's 
Book. Before leaving New York, I had been 
particularly requested by Artemus Ward to see the 
celebrated clergyman of San Francisco as soon as 
possible after my arrival, and solicit his aid in 
promoting the success of the first lecture. Also, 
if practicable, to get him to occupy a seat on the plat- 
form. 

6. To call on the editors of the various papers, 
present them each with one of the books, so that they 
might have the material ready at hand from which to 
make extracts, and enlist their aid in the great cause 
of Artemus and popularity. 

7. To drop in at the chief book-stores and at the 
Mercantile Library Association, announce the object 
of my visit, and ascertain the probable chances of 
success. 

Here was work enough for one day, but the seed 
had to be sown copiously in order that the harvest 
might be abundant. To adopt the phraseology of 
showmen, " You must work your show if you want to 
make a go of it." 

The despatch of the telegram to New York was the 
first thing to be done. In a very few minutes the 
message was delivered to the clerk at the telegraph 
office in Montgomery Street. Before noon it was re- 
telegraphed on from Salt Lake City, and before evening 



TEE METROPOLIS OF TEE NORTE PACIFIC. 251 

it was read on the other side of the Continent, in the City 
of New York, three thousand five hundred miles away. 

A call at the Evening Bulletin office was the next 
duty to perform. Had I gone to England on a similar 
errand, I should have spared myself the trouble of 
calling at the Times office, but San Francisco is not 
London, although the Bulletin is one of the most 
respectable, well-conducted, and high-principled of 
newspapers. Travellers are apt to come home and 
write sensation paragraphs relative to the eccentricities 
of western journals ; but he would be a very hyper- 
critical traveller indeed who would undertake to re- 
present the San Francisco Evening Bulletin as other 
than a first-class paper, well-written, well-edited, and 
invariably accurate in its reports. Unlike some other 
journals of the Western world, it does not open its 
columns to paid-for puffery, never indulges in " high- 
falutin" or bombastic language in its articles, and care- 
fully eschews the insertion of any paragraph which 
might render its pages unacceptable to the most 
fastidious family circle. It had for its editor a well- 
educated English gentleman, who was at one time I 
believe a frequent contributor to the "Edinburgh 
Review." 

As I walked down Montgomery Street towards the 
Bulletin office, I was irresistibly reminded that I was 
in San Francisco and nowhere else. Over head 
was a bright sky without a cloud, around me an 
atmosphere which seemed to communicate elasticity, 
nervous tone, and lightness of spirits. Before me 
were buildings which in their whiteness and airy ap- 
pearance suggested Paris or one of the cities of the 
Mediterranean. Bat not the clear sky, nor the 
bracing atmosphere, nor the brightness of the build- 



252 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

ings was so corroborative of the fact of my being in 
San Francisco as were tbe developments of social life 
around me. The ladies out walking were dressed as 
in England they would dress for carriage riding only, 
and the gentlemen wore for morning attire black 
trousers, black coats, and shirts with fancy fronts. I 
met Chinese in the costume of the Flowery Land, and 
in the habiliments of natives of the Western hemi- 
sphere. I passed miners fresh from the mines, and 
emigrants recently arrived from New York. At the 
corner of one street stood a group of Spanish residents, 
and on the other side of the way were the brown faces 
and broad-brimmed sombreros of men who had lately 
journeyed from Arizona, Chihuahua, or Sonora. Then, 
when I halted before the Bulletin office, I found a 
crowd assembled around it, and becoming recognised 
by one of the number, my hand was tightly grasped, 
and he who welcomed me said — 

" I am right glad to see you ! Why, where on 
earth have you come from ? Have you got any feet ?" 

The question puzzled me. I hesitated before answer- 
ing that I believed I was the owner of two. 

" Well, that won't do," continued my acquaintance. 
" I am glad to see you — I am I If you've got no 
feet, I've got a whole pocket full, and I'll give you 
some. Good ones too. Gould and Curry are up this 
morning." 

Ignoramus as I was, the meaning of the benevo- 
lent Californian was a mystery to me. If Gould and 
Curry were up I did not care, not knowing the 
gentlemen; and where they had gone up to was a 
matter I cared about less; but I own that my 
curiosity was a little excited concerning the " feet" 
my friend stated he had in his pocket, and I was 



AN OPERATIC MANAGER. 253 

anxious to know more about them, as well as what 
possible benefit they could be to me if he carried out 
his profession of generosity. 

A few words of explanation, and I undersood all. 
Since my previous visit to California the silver mines 
of Nevada had been discovered and worked. The 
" Gould and Curry " was the richest of those mines. 
Mining property in the land of silver was not reckoned 
up in shares, but in " feet." The area of each mine 
was measured off, and the owners allotted so many 
feet each. With their " feet" they went into the 
share-market, with their "feet" they assembled in 
Montgomery Street, bought, sold, speculated, won or 
lost. In London at that very time the jest of the 
streets was to inquire in senseless badinage — " How's 
your poor feet ?" While six thousand miles off in 
San Francisco the familiar question everywhere was — 
" Have you got any feet ?" or " How are feet 
to-day ?" 

My errand at the office of the Bulletin was soon 
accomplished. The paragraph with which the first 
" echo" was to be started, was to appear that evening. 

Turning up Washington Street towards the Plaza, I 
found Mr. Maguire, the proprietor of the Opera House, 
just in the same spot where I had parted with him a 
few years previously. He was standing in front of 
his place of business, smoothing down his beard in the 
sunlight, precisely as I have seen him similarly engaged 
morning after morning in time past. It was his habit 
to transact all his business on the footpath in front of 
his theatre. There he had settled on the production 
of new pieces, engaged companies, despatched agents 
to Europe, made contracts for building new theatres 
up the country, purchased mining stock, bought the 



254 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

best horses in California, heard calmly the news of 
his losses by fire in some distant part of the State, 
paid over ten thousand dollars at a time, and lectured 
refractory actresses on their duties while on the stage. 
Among the representative men of California there is 
not a more noticeable one in his way than Mr. 
Thomas Maguire. Nor would any history of San 
Francisco be complete with his name omitted from its 
pages. Commencing life in a very humble position 
in New York, he went out to California in its earliest 
days; speculated in shows, played at faro, fought 
duels, built theatres, saw them burn one after another 
in the great fires which from time to time desolated 
San Francisco ; and nothing daunted, when one theatre 
had become ashes, fell to work and built up another 
immediately. Among his last enterprises was to visit 
London, and, in conjunction with Mr. Richard Risley, 
bring over the Japanese acrobats and jugglers. He 
engaged Her Majesty's Theatre for their performances. 
About a week previous to the date on which they 
were to appear, he and I stood at the corner of 
Suffolk Place and saw the grand old opera-house make 
red the midnight sky. It almost broke the heart of 
the plucky Calif ornian manager. — " Haven't I had 
enough of that kind of luck in San Francisco ?" said 
he to me. " What has it followed me here for ?" 

Mr. Maguire received me in the most friendly 
manner, there, in front of his theatre in Washington 
Street, of the Californian metropolis. Presently he 
inquired : " What did your Mr. Ward mean by reply- 
ing to my telegram in that way, saying when I asked 
him what he'd take to come out here, that he'd take 
brandy and water ? Well, it was a good joke. It went 
into all the papers, and it will do him good. Of course 



TEE SHOWMAN'S CLERGYMAN. 255 

he'll come to me. You should let me handle him. 
How much do you want for him for the whole State ?" 

My reply was to the effect that Mr. Maguire had 
better make his own offer. He did so immediately. I 
declined to accept, and left him to think the matter 
over. Returning to the hotel, I unpacked my parcel 
of books, and taking a dozen or two with me, proceeded 
to make a series of calls. 

The Rev. Starr King, the head of the Unitarian 
Church in San Francisco, was the first gentleman 
I selected to visit. There were many reasons for 
my doing so. In the first place there was Artemus 
Ward's expressed wish that I should endeavour to en- 
list Mr. King in his favour and secure his attendance 
on the first night. Then there was the fact of the 
reverend gentleman's great popularity in California, 
and the influence he had over all classes of citizens 
in San Francisco. In addition, to see Mr. King 
and obtain his advice were desirable points to be 
gained. He was himself a popular lecturer, and 
something of a showman. Some years before I had 
heard him lecture in San Francisco on the life of 
Socrates to a church so crowded, that although a 
dollar, I believe, was charged for admission, many 
persons paid simply for the privilege of standing in 
the porch and listening as best they could. Then 
again a new and beautiful cavern was discovered up 
the country. When it was opened to the public the 
Rev. Starr King was called upon to play the part 
of exhibitor and deliver an oration on its beauties. 
Whenever a public occasion required the delivery of 
an eloquent speech, or wherever oratory could be 
brought in to aid a good work, his assistance was sure 
to be sought, and he was always as courteously willing 



256 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

as he was unquestionably competent. His place is 
now filled I believe by the Rev. Horatio Stebbins, 
formerly of Boston, a very thoughtful and excellent 
preacher, but the grand voice of the truthful, eloquent, 
and enthusiastic Starr King must still linger in the 
memory of those who heard it as one the like of 
which is not soon to be heard again upon the Pacific 
coast. 

A brief and most agreeable conversation, and my 
object in visiting the reverend gentleman was attained. 
He expressed how much he had already enjoyed the 
writings of Artemus Ward, was prepared to give him 
a warm welcome, would do his best to advertise him 
among friends, and would unfailingly attend on the 
first night. So far, so good. He was better than a 
large poster. 

Many more calls were made during the morning, 
and many presentation books distributed. Then came 
a chat with the booksellers, and a little interested 
advice to them to make a show of some of their copies 
of Artemus's book in their shop windows. For the 
adornment of their premises as well as for the 
satisfaction of public curiosity, I left them each one 
or two portraits of the coming lecturer. All alike 
were encouraging enough to express but one opinion ; 
and that was that there would be large audiences and 
golden dollars in satisfactory plenitude. Let me add 
that the bookstores of San Francisco are an honour 
to the city. Their size and the large stock of 
standard works they each contain bear evidence that 
brains as well as " feet w are valued in the Land of 
Gold, and that the auri sacra fames is accompanied 
with a constant thirst for knowledge. 

The newspapers had yet to be called upon ; a few 



THE COACH TO SALT LAKE. 




The omnibus has here a much more respectable appearance than its 
original, — a jolting affair, of cumbrous proportions, and in every way un- 
comfortable. 



A MEETING WITH INDIAN'S. 




There are two races of Indians in the Utah territory — the Shoshone^ 
and the Utes ; and it is said that there is a treaty of alliance between thf 
and Brigham Young. 



SEEING AN EDITOR. 257 

little courtesies to be exchanged, and the editorial 
pulse to be properly felt. He who neglects the news- 
paper in America commits a worse fault than if he 
sinned against the Constitution of the United States. 
There is no difficulty in seeing an editor or a news- 
paper manager. Your visit is not intrusive, provided 
you have the common sense not to bother. On the 
contrary, it is regarded as a compliment, and an 
act of attention worthy of being duly reciprocated. 
That your visit may be thoroughly acceptable, the rule 
is to say all you have to say in a few words, afford 
all the information you can, place as much matter at 
the disposal of the editor as may be desirable, and 
take your departure without delay. Sow the seed and 
wait the result. Of course you have a few " dead- 
head" or complimentary tickets with you. Take 
care that you give them to the proper persons. 

Among the morning papers the Alta California was 
the chief. I believe that it still retains that position. 
For commercial news, for stocks, u feet/'' public com- 
panies and auctions, it holds pre-eminent rank, and 
possesses the means of obtaining very copious informa- 
tion. Being known to Mr. Noah, who was then one 
of the editors, I had no difficulty in effecting the 
object of my visit. The coming of Artemus Ward 
would be heralded in the Alta California precisely in 
the way in which I wished it to be. There would be 
a short paragraph the following morning, and longer 
ones in due course. 

The next newspaper to be attended to was the 
Morning Daily Call, a remarkably spirited and chatty 
little journal, published at a very cheap rate, having 
a large circulation, and being full of piquant para- 
graphs, bits of scandal, sensation " items/' and special 



258 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

scraps of news interesting to its numerous lady readers. 
I placed myself fearlessly in the hands of Mr. Barnes, 
one of its editors and proprietors, and had no reason 
afterwards to regret that my confidence had been 
wrongly entrusted, or that my intention in calling 
had been misconstrued. In the office of the Morning 
Daily Call I chanced to meet one of the most able 
and most original of Californian authors — Mr. Bret 
Harte, whose contributions to the literature of the 
Pacific will most assuredly be one day collected and 
published in London. My announcement to him that 
Artemus Ward was about to visit San Francisco was 
quite enough to secure his good will and hearty literary 
co-operation. 

Then I went across to the office of the Golden 
Era } a weekly paper, excellently well printed, al- 
ways full of entertaining matter of literary merit, and 
having a circulation which ranges over all the 
western coast of English-speaking North America. 
I had a letter of introduction to Colonel Lawrence, 
co-proprietor and editor. The colonel chanced to be 
at his desk, and received me very graciously. My 
mission was soon executed. The assuring phrase of 
" We'll put him through/' was enough to satisfy me 
that the cause of Artemus Ward would be quite safe 
in his hands. I wished to know how much matter re- 
lative to the lecture and the lecturer I could contribute 
to the next number. The colonel smiled. " You are 
stopping at the Occidental — are you not ?" he asked. 
I replied that I was. u Then," said he, " IT1 drop in 
there late to-night, and take a drink with you and 
we'll talk it over." 

There chanced to be one or two other gentlemen in 
the office of the Golden Era at the time. One of 



A NOVEL IDEA FOB A " BEADING." 259 

them paid particular attention to all I had to say 
about Artemus Ward coming, and then remarked, — 

" We know a good deal about Mr. Ward, and I've 
no doubt he'll corral* some very good audiences. But 
you should bring along out here some of your great 
English writers whose books we have all read." 

I inquired which of them the gentleman thought 
would draw the best houses. 

"Well, there's Charles Dickens. He goes out with 
a show of his own now — don't he ?" 

I explained that Mr. Dickens simply gave readings 
from his own works. 

" Well/' rejoined the speculative Calif ornian, " I 
wouldn't mind going in a few thousand dollars for him 
to come and read his books out here ; but there's your 
Bulwer. His Last Days of Pompei-i is a smart book — 
as smart a book as I know. He ought to be brought out 
too. Now I'll give you an idea. There's a pile of dollars 
in it — you bet. Bring out your Dickens and your 
Bulwer, and let them read together on the same night. 
First Dickens a bit out of his books, and then Bulwer a 
bit out of his. One down and the other come on. Sakes 
alive ! they'd have a good time out here in old Califor- 
nia! My columns would be open to both of them," 
added Colonel Lawrence. " They could just have as 
much space as they liked to write themselves up in 
the Golden Era." 

The Despatch, another weekly paper of much im- 
portance, and one or two other journals of minor po- 
sition, remained for me to visit. But the day was 
over, and further calls had to be postponed. Dinner, 



* Corral, Spanish for an enclosure. To corral is a Cali- 
forniau phrase meaning to gather in, or get together. 

S 2 



2 6o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

and a stroll round to the theatres in the company of 
the friend who had promised to " wake the echoes/" 
occupied the evening. Late at night, the moon shining 
brilliantly and the stars in the clear sky of California 
seeming to be larger than the stars we see above us 
in England, I rambled along Montgomery Street, and 
though the night was chill and the walk a very lonely 
one, made my way up Telegraph Hill, that I might look 
upon the Golden City of the West by moonlight. 

There are a few cottages on the side, and a signal- 
station on the summit of Telegraph Hill. No one 
was about. I had brought with me one of Artemus 
Ward's posters, and material for fastening it up. My 
fancy was that the first bill announcing our enterprise 
in California should be posted on the signal-station. 
There it is that the arrival of vessels is notified, and 
there it seemed fitting to me should be the earliest no- 
tification of the coming of Artemus Ward. The poster 
duly affixed, I wrapped my outer coat around me, 
for the wind was keen, and sat down to enjoy the 
prospect. 

Beneath me to the east lay the commercial portion 
of San Francisco, built along the shore of its magnifi- 
cent bay. Lights gleamed from the windows of houses 
perched up on the three great hills which back the 
city. I have been told that San Francisco, like Rome, 
is built on seven hills, but I could never enumerate 
that number. Lights glimmered down in the bay 
among the shipping and on the island of Yerba Buena. 
Lights, too, were tlimly discernible across the bay at 
Contra Costa. Grim and silent in the midst of the 
placid waters slept Fort Alcatraz on its throne of rock. 
Westward were the grand portals of the Golden Gate. 
Beyond them the waters of the Pacific. Twenty 



ON TELEGRAPH HILL. 261 

years ago and the country around me was almost a 
solitude, except having here and there a Spanish mis- 
sion. Now, there was a great and gay city, filled 
with rich and energetic inhabitants, a harbour crowded 
with vessels and the whole commerce of the western 
half of a continent centring in this one spot — a com- 
merce that must perforce go on increasing and still 
increasing, until the u star of empire," taking its way 
still further westward and travelling across the Pacific, 
Yokohama and Canton shall become the centres of 
the civilized world, the Orient regain its ancient 
supremacy, the circuit be completed, and the days of 
the millennium accomplished. 

Seated there in solitude on the summit of 
Telegraph Hill, thoughts chased one another rapidly 
through the brain, and imagination pictured out the 
great wastes of Oregon and of Washington Territory 
away to the North ; the coral isles visited in days 
gone by in the peaceful ocean flowing to the south- 
west, and the dreary deserts of the great continent to 
the east which would have to be traversed, if, as pro- 
jected, my homeward path should be taken that way. 
But overhead the stars were bright, the moon brilliant, 
the sky clear. Around all was tranquillity and 
beauty. To the memory came the grand lines of 
Tennyson : — 

" I hear at times a sentinel 

Who moves about from place to place, 
And whispers to the worlds of space 
In the deep night that all is well." 

Five minutes afterwards the poetry of the situation 
was ruthlessly destroyed by a watchman asking me 
what I was doing at night on Telegraph Hill. 



262 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

I felt that there was solid prose in the watchman's 
question, and after chatting with him and bidding him 
" good night/' descended the hill, sought out the 
Occidental Hotel, and went to bed, feeling that the 
" echoes" had been roused enough for one day. 



SAN FRANCISCO. 263 



CHAPTER XIX. 

SAN FRANCISCO FROM A SHOWMAN'S POINT OF 
VIEW. 

TWENTY-FOUR hours to let pass and wait 
the results of what had been already done. 
That was the plan I laid out. Meanwhile there was 
time for a stroll round San Francisco, to notice its 
changes and improvements, revisit old friends and 
form a few new acquaintances. A lengthy description 
of the city would be foreign to the purpose of these 
pages, but a brief reference to its amusements and its 
varied developments of show life, will perhaps be ex- 
pected by the reader. The city itself affords material 
enough for half a dozen volumes, so varied are the 
scenes to be met with in its streets; so motley is the 
character of its inhabitants. 

Imagine a city built where there was no place to 
build one. Imagine a bay, a narrow strip of shore 
alongside that bay, and steep hills rising from it, their 
summits stony, and their bases almost washed by the 
waters of the bay. On the strip of shore San Francisco 
had its origin. The narrowness of the strip soon 
became an inconvenience. What was to be done? 
. Three things. First, build out on piles into the bay ; 
secondly, build on some of the hills as they stood; 



264 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

and thirdly, hew out the stone and remove by the 
process of blasting a portion of the rock of which the 
hills are formed, and turn hilly paths into level roads. 
All this has been done. Roads have been made 
through the rock by engineering skill, and street after 
street, with rows of warehouses, hotels, and offices, 
built parallel with the strip of shore skirting the bav, 
on piles driven into the mud. The city is now as up- 
hill as have been the lives of most of its inhabitants. 

Pretty and picturesque is the up-hill part of San 
Francisco. Charming villas and delightful little 
residences, all of them very white in colour and some 
of them most fanciful in design, are perched up one 
above another on hewn crag and rocky summit, From 
the windows of some of them can be seen the glimmer 
of the sunlight on the Pacific through the open Gate 
of the Golden Land, while from the windows of most 
of them may be obtained views of the beautiful bay, 
of majestic Monte Diabolo, of Oakland with its 
paradise of pretty trees, and of the gay and brilliant 
city which has the brightness of Marseilles, the sky 
of Athens, and the atmosphere of Eastern Australia. 

Away in the rear and to the north-west of the 
pretty up-hill residences, is the Old Presidio, while to 
the east is the quaint old Mission Dolores, so that in 
less than an hour you can leave behind you American 
San Francisco of to-day, and look upon what remains 
of Spanish dominion in the days gone by. 

Descend to the Plaza, or Portsmouth Square as it 
used to be called some years ago, and you are in the 
heart of San Francisco. Wander round the pretty 
enclosure, and you will meet with exemplars of the 
nationalities of all lands. You will notice Americans 
just arrived from Boston, New York, or New Orleans; 



A MID-DAY MASQUERADE. 265 

Englishmen from British Columbia or from Van- 
couver's Island; Australians from Sydney or Mel- 
bourne; Chinese from various parts of the Celestial 
Empire ; Japanese from Hakodadi or from Jeddo ; 
Mexicans with their sarapes rolled around them ; 
Spaniards from Cuba or from Spain itself; Peruvians 
with their heads thrust through their picturesque 
ponchos; brown- skinned Kanakas from Honolulu; 
Chilians, with their dark, flashing eyes; Brazilians 
with their black, shining hair; Digger Indians from 
the interior, dressed in their rags and feathers ; miners 
from the mines in their rough costume; Germans, 
puffy with lager-bier; and Frenchmen dressed as 
though they were on the Parisian boulevards. On 
the Plaza and along Montgomery Street, there is a 
continual mid-day masquerade. 

On the Plaza, too, stands the City Hall, opposite 
to where the Alcalde used to hold his court in former 
times. The City Hall occupies the seat of the Jenny 
Lind Theatre, burnt many years ago. Music halls, or 
low-class concert rooms, are as numerous in proportion in 
San Francisco as they are in the large towns of England. 
On the Plaza is one which has been long established, and 
to which miners go to get rid of their surplus gold. 
It is known as Tetlow's Bella Union. On another side 
of the Plaza is Gilbert's Mtlodzon, with its windows 
decorated with large sheets of painted linen, on which 
are figures of nigger minstrels, Irish jig dancers, ladies 
of the ballet, making very angular pirouettes, and in- 
fant prodigies doing anything but what a good child 
ought to do. 

A city so cosmopolitan as San Francisco must have 
amusements to suit all tastes. Consequently, in Jack- 
son Street there are any number of dance-houses for 



266 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

sailors, Mexicans, Sonorians, and South American 
rough customers. In one of the suburbs are the ruins 
of the wooden amphitheatre in which bull-fights once 
took place, but the Spanish and Mexican portion of 
the inhabitants still contrive to give bull-fighting ex- 
hibitions on the Contra Costa side of the bay, circu- 
lating the handbills announcing them in the public 
places of the city. These handbills are printed in 
Spanish and English. They are usually marvels of 
composition, being well worthy of their place among 
the literature of shows. A brave and gallant bull- 
fighter is Don Gabriel Rivers, as his name is printed 
on the placard I have before me. I do not doubt that 
he is a plucky Andalusian, but " Rivers " is very sug- 
gestive, and I beg his pardon for suspecting him of 
having learned the elements of his graceful art in one 
of the abattoirs of New York. He announces that he 
is " King of the sword," and that he will have the 
honour of introducing " six savage, wild, full-blooded 
and desperate bulls. These six bulls were lassoed on 
the loneliest mountains of the coast, where they are 
not accustomed to see human society. They have a 
fiery hatred to the civilized world. Their disposition 
is on that account fierce and frightful ; so that the 
fighting of them can only be done by him who is a 
grand master of the sword, and by matadors of ac- 
knowledged reputation and honour. There will be a 
magnificent display of first-class fireworks when the 
bulls have the pleasure of appearing before the 
public." 

But the Spanish inhabitants of San Francisco oc- 
casionally desire to have amusements of a more intel- 
lectual kind, and the Spanish drama is performed for 
them in the grand language of old Spain at the 



THEATRES IN SAN FRANCISCO. 267 

American Theatre, Sansome Street. The French part 
of the population are frequently treated to a drama 
played in French ; the German inhabitants to a comedy 
or tragedy in German. While in San Francisco I at- 
tended the performance of a German play wherein 
one of the actors played admirably. His name, if I 
remember rightly, was Maubert. When will so many 
nationalities be theatrically represented in London ? 

Asia as well as Europe asserts the right of having 
its amusements represented in the metropolis of Cali- 
fornia. The Chinese population being very large, and 
there being whole streets in which the houses are oc- 
cupied by immigrants from the Celestial Empire, a 
Chinese theatre is a matter of necessity. Artemus 
Ward in his Lecture on the Mormons used to refer to 
his experiences of the Chinese drama in San Francisco. 
I accompanied him on the occasion, and in a subse- 
quent chapter will attempt to describe what we both 



Fond as the inhabitants are of more exciting amuse- 
ments, the English drama is, after all, the form of en- 
tertainment most fashionable in California. Opera 
invariably draws good audiences, but the difficulty is 
to get good artistes. A troupe chiefly composed of 
ladies and gentlemen who came from London made a 
very large sum of money in San Francisco during one 
of my visits to that city. The prima donna of the 
troupe was Miss Lucy Escott, and the tenor, Mr. 
Henry Squires. Then, for Italian Opera there were 
the Bianchi family, together with a dozen or two of 
other artistes who have a celebrity in the " far West." 
The usual rule is for opera artistes to play in California 
till they cease to be attractive, then take ship and go 
off to Australia, Hong Kong, or South America, and 



268 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

after having made a tour of the Pacific, return to 
California. Fancy Amino, and Elvino, Norma, Adal- 
gisa and Pollio, Azucena and Manrico, taking a pro- 
fessional tour over waters which Grijalva and Sebastian 
Viscanio, Drake, Anson, and Captain Cook explored 
with wondering eyes, in days which have hardly yet 
become those of antiquity ! 

Maguire's Opera House, Washington Street, is the 
theatre which has enjoyed the longest run of good 
fortune. It is not a large house, but very compact. 
Some of its arrangements used to be peculiar. For 
instance, all round the back of the pit was a series of 
private boxes for the exclusive use of the demi-monde 
of San Francisco, while on the first floor over the 
entrance were extensive gambling rooms, where he who 
might be desirous of " bucking the tiger," or in other 
words, playing the game of faro, might have a chance 
of breaking the bank if skill and fortune were with him, 
or a still greater chance of becoming " broke" himself, 
to use the Californian synonym for impecuniosity. 

Most of the " stars" from New York, from London, 
or from Australia, who have chanced to visit San 
Francisco in past years, have displayed their talents 
at Maguire's Opera House New plays, as soon as 
produced in the English or American metropolis, are 
sent onto San Francisco; for Mr. Maguire has agents 
in both capitals. Sometimes it is surprising how the 
plays find their way to San Francisco without their 
authors knowing that they have set out on the journey; 
and sometimes the authors receive remuneration. But 
San Francisco is a long way off, and though gradually 
becoming enclosed in the garden wherein the play- 
wright culls the flowers of pecuniary reward, it has not 
yet been the most prompt and punctilious of places in 



" TEE NAPOLEON OF TEE PACIFIC:' 269 

rendering to the auctorial Caesar that which Caesar 
rightly claims to be his own. 

" Come and let me show you what a place I have 
made since you were out here last," said Mr. Maguire, 
taking me by the arm, leading me through mysterious 
passages, and ushering me into a large hall in which 
were many desks. " I have built them a Stock- 
exchange. Here's where they sell their 'feet/ and 
shake about their dollars." 

As far as I could make out, the dollars were shaken 
about on the very spot where, a few years before, I 
witnessed the ladies of the ballet disporting themselves 
on what was once the stage of the Lyceum Theatre, 
in the days when Mr. Lewis Baker was the proprietor 
thereof. The Lyceum has ceased to be. Adjacent 
to its former site, but round the corner in Montgomery 
Street — or " on Montgomery," to write as a Califor- 
nian would speak — stands the Metropolitan Theatre, 
a very commodious house, built on the spot where 
another theatre of the same name once stood. It is 
now owned by a wealthy brewer of San Francisco. 

Further up Montgomery Street — the Regent Street 
of that part of the world — was a small house known 
as the Eureka Theatre, used at the time of Artemus 
Ward's visit as a minstrel hall, the minstrel company 
belonging to Mr. Maguire. Near to it Mr. Maguire 
was commencing the building of another house. From 
the plans of it, which I carefully looked over, it must 
have been when completed one of the most charming 
theatres in America. The name given to it was The 
Academy of Music. Round goes the whirligig of 
change, and hey, presto ! the Academy of Music has 
become a furniture warehouse, while at the time that I 
am writing I cannot find in the San Francisco papers 



2J0 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the name of Mr. Maguire among the list of Cali- 
fornian managers, though his theatre still bears his 
name, and but a year or two ago his dramatic 
friends used to style him "The Napoleon of the 
Pacific." In addition to his theatres in San Francisco 
he had one at Sacramento, another over the Sierra 
Nevada at Virginia City, and a third beyond the Reese 
River desert at the Silver Mines of Austin. I should 
not be the least surprised were I to learn that he had 
gone up to Alaska, the territory purchased recently 
from Russia, and that he is building a series of opera 
houses along the borders of Behring's Straits. 

Dramatic artists are an adventurous class. In 
illustration of which I may mention that among the 
letters of introduction I took with me to San Fran- 
cisco, were two to gentlemen of some professional 
eminence. On asking for one of these gentlemen I 
was told that he had gone off to start a theatre at 
Yokohama in Japan, and on inquiring for the other 
I was informed that he was managing a playhouse up 
in Puget Sound. The latter had been manager of 
the American Theatre in San Francisco, and on going 
there to seek for him, a hole in the middle of the 
road reminded me of what I had witnessed in 
the same street a few years before. The incident is 
illustrative of the mode in which San Francisco is 
built. As I have before stated, a very large portion 
of it stands on piles driven into what was once the 
bay. In many parts the water still flows under shops, 
warehouses, and hotels. The old American Theatre in 
Sansome Street has a similar foundation. I was 
standing in front of it early in an evening of the 
year i860. A friend was conversing with me. A 
carriage with a pair of horses was coming up the 



SAN FRANCISCAN THEATRES. 271 

street. Suddenly, while we were still talking, the 
carriage and its horses disappeared. Not round any 
corner, nor behind any building, but vanished in the 
middle of the street, while coming along at a brisk rate. 
" Where is that carriage ?" we asked each other 
at the same moment. " That carriage," horses, driver, 
and ladies inside, had all gone through the plank- 
road bodily, itotten and ready to fall in, the planks 
had given way, and, in an instant, the equipage, with 
those belonging to it, had been precipitated into the 
foul water and the black mud over which Sansome 
Street extends. 

The American Theatre has served its purpose, and 
may possibly by this time be demolished. Its fame in 
the past will not preserve it from destruction in a 
land where age hallows nothing. Since I left America 
another new theatre, more magnificent I am told than 
any one of its predecessors, has arisen in San Fran- 
cisco, and is under the management of two very 
talented American actors — Messrs. Maccullogh and 
Lawrence Barrett. 

As a matter of course, San Francisco has its 
Museum or miscellaneous collection of shows. It has 
also an Anatomical Exhibition, and a sort of Cremorne 
Gardens, known by the name of Hayes Park, where 
there are various amusements provided for the pleasure- 
loving citizens, especially for those who seek their 
recreation on Sunday. 

To the traveller recently arrived from one of the 
Eastern States the fact of the theatres and other 
places of entertainment being open to the San Fran- 
ciscans on Sunday evening is a matter of surprise. 
Many of the actors and actresses strongly object to 
the custom, and I believe that a new order of things 



272 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

is in progress. Meanwhile actors and actresses have 
to congratulate themselves on the fact that they are 
better paid in California, according to their scale of 
merit , than they are anywhere else in the world. 

Let no one suppose that because there is nothing 
but a little water between San Francisco and the island 
on which Captain Cook was slain by the savages of 
the Pacific, that any of the inconveniences of savage 
life are to be met with in the city to which you voyage 
through a Golden Gate. There are many pleasures, 
many comforts, and luxuries without number to be 
enjoyed in Chrysopolis, as some of the more pedantic 
of its inhabitants like to designate the treasure-laden 
town. You get good hotels there. They are some- 
thing to get. In the hotels you may find Parisian 
furniture, and tables well spread with the best of food 
purchased in the market; which for its fruit and 
vegetables is not to be surpassed by any in the cities 
of other lands. These also are good things to get. 

I have already noticed the Occidental Hotel. Be- 
sides that, there was at the time of my visit the Lick 
House, an hotel of very imposing appearance, and the 
Russ House, which occupied an extended front on 
Montgomery Street. At the Russ House Miss Adah 
Isaacs Menken was living in stately style, together 
with the gentleman who was understood to be her 
husband, and whose literary name is Orpheus C. Kerr. 

Still another hotel of larger proportions than those 
already completed was in process of building. It was 
opened towards the close of the year 1864, and is 
known as the Cosmopolitan. The announcements 
stated that it was to cost two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars for building. Another two hundred thou- 
sand dollars was to be expended on the furniture, which 



CHURCHES AND HOTELS. 273 

was to be wholly composed of " solid black walnut 
with brocatelle trimmings. - " 

Next to the grandeur of the hotels, the beauty of 
the churches is very noticeable in San Francisco. The 
religious edifices are numerous, many of them having 
marked architectural excellence. The good Cali- 
fornians are fond of sensational preachers. They like 
their clergymen to have great oratorical and rhetorical 
power. A prosy parson would stand no chance among 
them. The people themselves are full of " go " ; so 
also have to be their preachers. I have already noticed 
the eloquence of the late Rev. Starr King, who was 
not only the great preacher of his sect, but also the 
most popular man of any sect among the churches 
represented on the Pacific. But the Presbyterians 
have their " stars " of the pulpit. Chief among them 
is the Rev. Dr. Wadsworth from Philadelphia. So 
successful is he in attracting congregations that I was 
assured his church was the wealthiest in the city. 
" He draws elegant houses/'' remarked my informant 
to me. " He's got the real grit in him, and makes 
an awful pile of rocks." By which I understand that 
the reverend doctor's congregation is largely disposed 
to liberality in the way of remunerating him for his 
service. 

From the churches of San Francisco to its bar- 
rooms is rather a strange transition, but not more so 
than the way in which things are jumbled up in the 
Californian metropolis. To attempt any sketch of 
the place, however hastily filled in, and to omit its bar- 
rooms, would be a great mistake. They are at one 
and the same time places of refreshment, of business, 
and of information. In no way except that drink 
is dispensed in them, do they resemble the public-houses 



274 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of England. They are divided into two classes ; those 
at which the drinks are charged at " two bits" each, and 
those where the price is only one " bit-." A " bit "■ is 
a ten-cent piece or " dime/'' but " two bits " are sup- 
posed to mean a quarter of a dollar or twenty-five 
cents. Where two bits are charged for a drink the 
vendor will accept two dimes but expects the quarter 
dollar, and he who offers two dimes on every occasion 
is soon regarded contemptuously as a shabby fellow 
who belongs to the rank and file of the ignoble army 
of " bummers." 

No better illustration of a Californian first-class bar- 
room can be adduced than that of the one which stands 
on the corner of Washington and Montgomery Streets. 
It is designated by the name of the Bank Exchange. 
Carrying out that odd fancy which the good people of 
the West have of calling things and naming places by 
any but their right names, it is no imcommon practice 
to designate a bar-room an "fxchange/" In any 
Californian mining town " The Exchange " is sure to 
be a liquor-store, and a " Magnolia " is equally as 
certain to be an establishment of a similar description. 
The Bank Exchange in San Prancisco is a gorgeous 
temple of Bacchus, conducted in the best manner. 
Its appointments are all sumptuous without m being 
meretriciously gaudy; its liquors are of the very best, 
and its arrangements peculiar to California. Eor 
instance, during two or three hours of the morning 
there is a free lunch spread, at which the visitor can 
partake of fish, flesh, and fowl. Eor his drink he is 
charged twenty-five cents, and in that charge his 
luncheon is included. When there is no luncheon on 
the table the cost of a drink is just the same, but for 
the twenty-five cents yo;\ may select what drink you 



A BAB IN SAN FRANCISCO. 275 

please, even to sparkling champagne supplied to you 
in a silver- goblet with a gilt lining to it. Lunch, 
champagne, cleanliness and civility — all for an English 
shilling ! A good land is California. 

In addition to the drinking and eating, the intel- 
lectual wants of the visitors are attended to in the San 
Franciscan bar-rooms. For instance, at the Bank Ex- 
change, Mr. Parker, the proprietor, takes care that the 
latest telegrams shall be posted up, and the news of 
the world be at the command of his patrons. Punch, 
the Times, and the Illustrated London News, are there 
side by side with the New York Herald, Times, Tribune, 
and World. Over the bar is a billiard -room fitted up 
with great luxury, having ten of Phelan's famous 
tables ; its floor covered with Brussels carpet, and its 
chairs fit for a Parisian palace. 

The Bank Exchange is a great focus for the gentle- 
men of San Francisco. It is the rendezvous at which you 
meet your friend on any matter of business. Ladies of 
course do not visit it, for no American female, how- 
ever humble her position, would enter a bar-room. 
The only feminine adornment the Bank Exchange 
possesses is Potiphar's wife, or Delilah, I forget which, 
the size of life, in oil-colour at the back of the bar. 

Peculiar is the custom in San Francisco of anti- 
cipating the morning and evening papers in the news 
posted on what are termed the " Bulletin Boards" 
of the bar-rooms. The latest telegram from the East, 
the arrival of the last steamer, the names of the pas- 
sengers who have left at noon by the boat for Panama, 
the most recent accident, any valuable lost, or any 
celebrity coming, are all items which find their way to 
the bulletin boards with extraordinary rapidity. At 
the time of my visit there was a man employed to do 

t 2 



276 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

this sort of work who had been on the press of New 
York. He was paid for his bar-room penny-a-lining 
by a subscription among the various liquor-sellers; 
being as fond of his whisky as he was indefatigable 
in hunting up news, and being free to drink at almost 
any bar, his occupation was as congenial to his tastes 
as it was serviceable to the public. 

When Artemus Ward did arrive in San Francisco 
every bulletin board in the city had an announcement 
of the fact within six hours after his landing. 



SPECULATORS IN THE SHOW. 277 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE ECHOES WAKE AND REPLY COMEDY AND 

TRAGEDY AT THE EL DORADO. 

PRECISELY what I expected would happen occurred 
in due course. On the morning of the second day 
after my friend had promised to " wake the echoes/' I 
found the echoes to be wide awake. Half-a-dozen 
people called at the hotel to make proposals for 
engaging Artemus Ward. There was one enterprising 
gentleman whose proposal had the merit of novelty. 

" I'll jine in with you on shares/' said he. " I'll 
take him up the country with a tent. I'll have the 
best brass band there is on the Western slope, and 
I'll hire a dozen boys to dress up for his wax figgers 
and go on horseback through the mines. He'll make 
dollars. So shall I. I'm posted up about him. 
There's stuff in him, and he'll pan out good." 

Thanking the gentleman for his proposal, I declined 
his offer. The tent, the brass band, and the boys 
dressed for wax figures were not in accordance with 
the way in which a lecture tour should be conducted 
even in California. But it was most satisfactory to 
listen to the prognostication that Artemus would 
" pan out" well. I was familiar with the phrase, 
having heard it on the mines years previously. The 



278 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

diggers use it in referring to the yield of gold-dnst in 
the washing of a pan of earth. 

Another gentleman prefaced his tender by asking, 
" What sort of a show does he give ? It isn't a steam- 
boat, is it ?" 

I assured him that it was not a " steamboat/'' for 
I knew that in the singular phraseology of California 
the word meant an imposture or fraud ; and that " to 
steamboat" a man signified to chase an impostor out 
of the town. 

There came offers from managers, from secretaries 
of institutions, and speculators ready to speculate in 
anything. Then came Mr. Maguire, who drove up to 
the door with a pair of spirited horses, and asked me 
to go for a drive with him as far as the Cliff House 
to see the seals. 

The day was fine ; the offer was not to be refused. 
Besides, I felt that it meant business. We drove out 
behind two of the best horses in the State, along a 
newly -made but excellent road. On each side of us 
villa-residences were built, or in process of building, 
and a good opportunity was afforded of glancing at 
the Belgravia of San Francisco. Driving past Lone 
Mountain Cemetery we pursued our way between 
ranges of sand-hills, till at length the Pacific Ocean 
opening to view, we saw on our right the Golden Gate, 
through which a steamer was passing outward bound 
to Victoria in Vancouver's Island. 

We halted at the Cliff House, an hotel built on the 
edge of the rocky coast. Its windows looking out 
upon the most romantic ocean of the world, and upon 
a high rocky island close by us in the midst of the 
surf and spray which were washing the huge brown 
masses of stone of which the island was formed. 



THE SEALS OF SAN FRANCISCO. 279 

In front of the hotel was a wooden balcony, with 
chairs for the use of visitors. Sitting down we had 
a good view of the great sight to which San Francisco 
treats its citizens and its visitors — the seals belonging 
to the State. 

Waddling up from the water on the stones around, 
and perched up on projections of the rock which forms 
the island, were some hundreds of large seals, some 
of them with their glossy heads only just above the 
surface of the waves, but the greater part of them 
basking, sliding, or crawling over the rock, many 
asleep, some at play, and a few* of them apparently 
enjoying a little family quarrel among themselves. 
The proprietor of the Cliff House keeps opera- glasses 
and telescopes for the use of his guests. We borrowed 
a glass, and through it watched the seals at their 
gambols, as they bit at each other, seemingly more in 
fun than in anger, barked like playful dogs, flopped 
from rock to rock, climbed the stony heights, or 
plunged into the sparkling sea. More pleasant was it 
to scan those which lay extended on their spray-washed 
couches, their large, soft, gleaming, womanly eyes 
turned towards us, and the folds of shiny skin on their 
sleek necks having the tone and texture of velvet. 
Some of the seals were so large as to warrant the 
belief that they weighed at least two hundred and 
fifty pounds. They are the pets of the San Franciscan 
public, and are preserved from being shot, caught, 
or disturbed in the enjoyment of their rocky island 
adjacent to the Golden Gate by a special enactment, 
wherein they are made the property of either the city 
or the State itself. 

We had watched the seals for some time, and 
had also discussed the quality of a bottle of cham- 



2 8o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

• 

pagne, when Mr. Maguire asked me in a pleasant 
manner, — 

" Well, what are yon going to do with your man?" 

That was the question I had been waiting for. I 
knew that it was coming. "My man" was Artemus. 
I replied that I was going to settle where he was to 
lecture very shortly, that I had received many pro- 
posals to engage him, and that if Mr. Maguire had 
one to make in addition I was very ready to hear it. 

"You don't want to trade with him, I see." he 
continued. "Well, I have made up my mind what I 
mean to do. He's a nice fellow, I believe, and you 
and I are old friends, so there's my Opera-house. I 
mean to let you have it for a night for nothing." 

Thanking the manager for his liberality, I replied 
that I was not quite certain whether it was the right 
place for Artemus Ward to deliver his lecture for the 
first time in California. There were many people 
willing to go and hear him who would have ob- 
jections to enter a theatre, and my own impression 
was that Piatt's Hall in Montgomery Street was the 
right place. 

" Your head's clear," replied Mr. Maguire. " It 
is the right place. I should like him to come to my 
house because it's where all stars do come ; but you're 
right. Don't sell him to anybody. Take Piatt's 
Hall." 

We took another peep at the seals, remounted our 
buggy, and drove off along the shore towards the Ocean 
House. Exciting and full of interest was that glo- 
rious drive, the broad sands glittering in the afternoon 
sun, the white surf washing our horses' hoofs, the 
ocean without a vessel of any description to relieve its 
grand and limitless expanse. The breeze which blew 



I 



OPPOSITE CHINA AND JAPAN. 281 

* 

around us came across the waves from islands where 
palm-trees grow — from shores where luscious fruits 
ripen and fragrant flowers bloom. Straight across 
those waves were China and Japan, the Sandwich 
Islands, and the spice-laden isles of the Philippines 
and of Molucca. It was worth being a showman to 
drive along that sandy beach on the world's western 
fringe of earth, far from the bustle, smoke, and noise 
of London or New York. 

On the way home Mr. Maguire again became gene- 
rous. "1 have been thinking over it," said he. "You 
take Piatt's Hall. My Opera-house wants cleaning up. 
I wouldn't like to oppose you. So I'll shut it up for 
cleaning the night you open, and let you have the field 
to yourself." 

Very good indeed of Mr. Maguire, but as I subse- 
quently learned, his business just then was at a low ebb. 
He knew that Artemus Ward would be attractive, and 
it was better for him to enact the magnanimous 
than for the good citizens to crowd Piatt's Hall and 
he to have an empty house. 

Without further hesitation I saw Mr. Piatt, arranged 
terms with him, and engaged his hall. Then came all 
the work of gradually stimulating the public with 
newspaper paragraphs, and notifying them by means of 
circulars, bills, and posters. 

In the evening I was again waited on by the gen- 
tleman who proposed to take Artemus up the country 
" with a tent." 

" Do you mean to let me jine in ?" said he. " My 
brass band will be worth all the money to you. A 
show isn't worth a red cent up the country without a 
brass band, and mine will play louder than any two 
in the State. It's elegant to listen to. There's one 



282 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of my boys at the Bella Union. Just you go and 
hear him to-night. I'll get him to give you " Hail, 
Columbia" on the trombone. When he pulls up the 
slide it makes all the benches move, and when he lets 
it out you can see the roof go up/' 

I had seen so many queer performances at the Bella 
Union in days gone by that I promised to go and 
hear the vigorous trombone-player. I had to give 
my promise to that effect as being the shortest mode 
of getting rid of my visitor. Walking down Mont- 
gomery Street some hours after, I found him waiting 
at the corner of Washington Street. He seized me 
by the arm and impelled me towards the Bella Union. 
When we were inside the concert-room he pointed out 
one of the gentlemen of the orchestra who was seated 
in a comfortable chair, his head drooping, his hands 
in his pockets, his legs extended straight before him, 
and a trombone between his knees. 

" There you have him ! He's elegant — he's just 
elegant. He gets steam out of that trombone. The 
instrument's got a soul to it. You'll hear it. The 
judge will tune it up presently." 

" Is he a judge ?" I asked. 

" Well, I guess he's a kinder sort of one. He 
used to be in a law office. That's when he learned 
his instrument. He used to take it up for exercise 
after writing out a lawyer's letter. You'll hear. When 
the judge does take it up, he'll let her rip." 

My impression was that " the judge" was not in a 
fit condition to take anything up. Unless I was much 
deceived by appearances, he had already taken up 
enough whisky to render his ability to play a trom- 
bone very problematical. Presently the time arrived 
for him to display his talent, but when his fellow 



STRAIGHTENING THE TROMBONE-PLAYER. 283 

artists began to finger their instruments the judge 
still remained motionless. My companion first gazed 
with a look of wonder, which presently changed to 
one of vexation, and then to an expression of rage. 

" I guess the judge has been on it to-night/" said 
he. " But he ain't a going to peter out in that way. 
Just you hold on while I go and straighten him." 

Rushing down the hall and through a little door 
beside the stage, the patron of the judge made his 
way towards the trombone-player, seized him by the 
shoulder, and hauled him through an opening, trom- 
bone and all. There were sounds of a scuffle behind, 
and of an altercation in the distance. After the lapse 
of about ten minutes the angry man made his re- 
appearance through the little door, his face flushed, 
his manner excited, and a battered fragment of the 
trombone in his hand. 

" The mean coot \" he exclaimed, " Fve straightened 
him. He can't leave his rum alone — can't he ? To 
think he'd serve me a trick like that. I've taken all 
the tune out of his instrument over his thick head. 
He a done it before, but I've straightened him now — 
I've straightened him." 

That little door beside the stage through which the 
man had gone to " straighten" the judge, reminded 
me of another scene which had transpired at the same 
place when I chanced to be in San Francisco in i860. 
There came from New York a young man with a 
rather pretty and youthful lady who was at first sup- 
posed to be his wife. He professed to act, and she to 
sing. They lodged at the El Dorado, opposite the Bella 
Union. The talents of the young man were not 
appreciated, while those of the young lady, combined 
with her good looks, gained her many friends. By 



284 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

and by it became rumoured about that the lady was 
treated harshly by her companion, made to work for 
his support, and chastised if she did not. Any such 
conduct was repugnant to the ideas of gallantry which 
every American possesses, but which Californian gen- 
tlemen have to even a Quixotic extent. For some few 
weeks the lady displayed her abilities at the Bella 
Union. Meanwhile the presumed husband busied 
himself in fitting up a small concert hall in Montgo- 
mery Street, to which he attached the maiden name 
of the lady as an attraction, and called the place — 
well, I will not mention the right name, but suppose 
it to have been entitled Miss Melinda Smith's Olympic, 
and, not to annoy the gentleman, who, I believe, is 
still alive, I will write of him as Mr. Richard Jones. 
The Olympic had been duly advertised, the evening 
came about for its being opened. Mr. Richard Jones 
was there; so also was a large audience. When the 
time arrived for Miss Melinda Smith to appear accord- 
ing to the programme, she was not forthcoming. 

Now, audiences as a rule are not very patient, and 
those of California are peculiarly fond of the excite- 
ment of a programme being continuous. A clamour 
arose for Miss Melinda Smith. The curtain remained 
down. The lady did not present herself. In her place 
appeared Mr. Richard Jones, who apologized to the 
people for the absence of the prima donna, and pro- 
mised to go and fetch her. Meanwhile a report 
spread in the room that the fair one had received a 
beating that morning from him whom she called her 
husband; that the beating had taken place at their 
apartments in the El Dorado, and that the lady had fled 
for refuge and protection to the Bella Union. A portion 
of the audience followed Mr. Richard Jones into the street, 



COMEDY OF THE EL DORADO. 285 

along which he rushed wildly in quest of the truant 
Melinda. He darted into the Bella Union, and after 
an interval re-appeared on the thoroughfare, a hand- 
kerchief to his face and only one of his eyes visible. 
It had so happened that he had attempted to pass 
through the little door to the stage that he might seize 
Melinda, take her off in triumph, and flog her well 
afterwards when at home, but that his passage had 
been barred by a strong arm, while a blow from a stout 
fist had dissipated his courage and overthrown his plans. 
Mr. Richard Jones returned to the Olympic, showed 
his bruised features to the audience, and apologizing 
for their disappointment, solicited their sympathy. He 
received it in the shape of some stools and billets of 
wood projected at his head. 

Mr. Richard Jones sought solace in whisky, and 
returned home late to find the door fastened and 
admission denied him. When the next morning came 
about, a happy thought struck him. The lady had 
evidently rebelled against further chastisement, and 
had obtained friends who were willing and able to fight 
for her. Without her, Mr. Richard Jones saw no 
prospect of making a living in San Francisco. She 
was no longer to be retained by force, but might she 
not be won back by love and by an appeal to sym- 
pathy? The manner in which he made that appeal 
was unique. He procured a plate, contrived to put 
some dried blood on it, wrote an affectionate note, 
expressed his sorrow, and requested the lady to notice 
the blood which he had lost in his endeavour to see 
her on the previous evening. He placed the note on 
the plate, took both across to the El Dorado himself, 
besought an interview, and on being denied it, left the 
plate outside the door. The relentless Melinda reta- 



286 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

liated in her own fashion. She caused the plate with 
its unseemly contents to be exhibited in a shop window, 
and beside the plate she deposited the note of appeal 
open for all who pleased to read. By next steamer 
Mr. Hi chard Jones departed as a steerage passenger 
for Panama. 

Female vengeance in this instance assumed a comic 
aspect, but a story was told to me by a young English- 
man belonging to the press of San Francisco, wherein 
the revenge of woman assumed a more tragic form, 
and wherein the El Dorado also partially figured as 
the scene of the transaction. 

The El Dorado building fronts the Plaza, on the 
corner of Washington and Kearney Streets. In olden 
days its fame was great, for it was the principal 
gambling house of San Francisco at the time when 
everybody gambled. Within its walls the miners who 
worked hard for wealth on the goldfields staked their 
gold at faro or roulette, and lost their hard-gained 
earnings to sharpers from New York and cunning Jews 
from New Orleans. Pounds upon pounds of gold, in 
dust and in nuggets, used to be staked upon the tables 
of the El Dorado. The place was furnished in magni- 
ficent style. There was a free supper for all who 
chose to gamble. There was wine to excite to play, 
and there was ruin to await the player. On the turn 
of a card frequently depended whether the pistol of 
the suicide should do its work without further delay, 
and add one more to the victims of the El Dorado. 

In the early days of San Francisco there was a 
handsome young man who gambled much, and who 
had brought with him from the East a lady, who ap- 
peared to be partly Louisianian and partly Spanish in 
her extraction. She manifested great attachment to 



GAMBLING FOR LIFE. 287 

him, and on many occasions -was noticed urging him 
not to enter the great gambling house. At a subse- 
quent date the lady was found in a dying state in the 
room of a small hotel in the Southern mines, where 
before her death she told the story of her wrongs and 
of her vengeance. Briefly related, abridging the 
rather dramatic version of it which my informant 
favoured me with, it may be thus told. 

The lady and the gentleman were not married. She 
had left home and friends in Louisiana to accompany 
to California the man who had possessed himself of 
her affections. In California the man had rapidly 
made money. The gambling fever had then seized 
him, and day after day, night after night, he spent his 
time at the El Dorado. At one time he won a little, 
at another lost much, and returned home in savage 
mood, frequently bringing with him a fellow-gambler 
who displayed more than pleasant courtesy towards 
the lady. The poor woman tried hard to dissuade the 
handsome man with whom she had recklessly come to 
the land of gold from pursuing the path which was 
leading him to madness and to destruction. Luck 
went against him. The more he played the more he 
lost. At length one evening he stayed later than 
usual at the gambling table, and the woman, anxious 
for his return, went to seek him. Through a hole in 
the door she witnessed him at play. She had arrived just 
as he had staked his last dollar to the man whom he 
had so often brought home with him. The two were 
playing with dice, not cards. The woman was an 
unobserved listener, and for some reason she did not 
allow her presence to be known. When the ill-starred 
gambler had lost all, the winner coolly proposed to him 
that he should throw again, but that this time the 



288 TEH GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

stakes should be heavy. There was the beautiful dark- 
eyed girl from Louisiana. Let him stake her, and 
against her his opponent would stake five thousand 
dollars. One throw each of the little blocks of ivory 
in the dice-box was to decide the issue. The throw 
was made. The beautiful Louisianian was lost. A cry 
of terror betrayed her presence. She fainted, and was 
carried off by the victor. 

A year or two afterwards the gambler who lost his 
last stake, and the woman whom he thus made light of 
at the gambling table, met at an hotel in Calaveras 
county. According to the dying statement of the 
woman herself, she had dissembled to him at the time 
of meeting until they were both in one room together 
at a time when she knew him to be unarmed. Then 
it was that after fastening the door she first drew from 
her pocket a dice-box and dice, and then a loaded re- 
volver. With desperate coolness she told the man that 
as he had once staked her happiness on the gambling 
table, so now she intended to stake his life. Both 
were to throw the dice. If he won he was to leave 
the room alive. If he lost he was to die. The dice 
were thrown. The man lost, and the woman shot him 
through the heart. She attempted to kill herself 
afterwards, but the shot not being immediately fatal, 
she lived long enough to tell the story of her singular 
revenge. 

The El Dorado has been the scene of a thousand 
strange stories. Its walls enclose chapters from nearly 
every romance in the early days of San Francisco. 




This is the hotel at which Artemus Ward "put up" during his sis 
weeks' stay in Utah. The Wahsatch Mountains are visible in the distance. 



THE ENDOWMENT HOUSE, SALT LAKE CITY. 




This is a building of extreme interest to Mormons, for within it their 
marriages are celebrated. The view at the back is a fancy sketch of 
Artemus Ward attacked by a bear in front, and by a pack of wolves in the 



VALUE OF LADIES TO A SHOW. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

TROTTING OUT THE BABES BESIDE THE PACIFIC. 

IT is an axiom in show-craft, and he knows nothing 
of his profession who has not mastered the secret, 
that no performance nor any exhibition or entertain- 
ment will be a success unless it appeal to the tastes 
and sympathies of the fair sex. That play will have 
a long run for the representations of which ladies 
urge their husbands, fathers, or brothers to take 
seats, and that performance is a decided success at 
which every female in the audience is seen occasion- 
ally to hide her face behind a white pocket-handker- 
chief. Never mind whether the gentleman visitors 
weep or smile if the ladies are interested ; then, in the 
language of the brotherhood, " the show is safe." 

Anxious that Artemus Ward should be very suc- 
cessful in California, I endeavoured to discover what 
amount of popularity he had already acquired among 
the ladies of San Francisco. My anxiety was dissi- 
pated when, after the announcement of his appearance 
had been made, a gentleman waited on me at the hotel 
to inquire if he could have the choice of the first seat 
sold. I replied that it was not intended to reserve 
seats. u But my wife must have the first ticket," said 
he. " She insists on my buying it for her. If you 

u 



2 9 o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

cannot sell me a seat, cannot you let me have the 
whole row ? All my lady friends are coming, and I 
will get to the hall early to see no one jumps their 
claim. " 

I was satisfied. An arrangement was made with 
the gentleman that he should have the " claim/" and 
that he should be allowed to attend early to prevent any- 
body " jumping " it. The front row of the hall filled with 
ladies was precisely the very thing to have. In Eng- 
land that front row of a place of entertainment has too 
often to be filled with free admissions, the party to 
whom the task of filling them is assigned playfully 
designating the process as " dressing the stalls."" 

Resident at the Occidental Hotel at the time was 
a young lady who was most pleasantly prophetic of 
the success of Artemus. As she was peculiarly typical 
<>f California I may be pardoned for referring to her 
and to her history. Let me call her Miss " No. 5/" 
and so call her because she always wore upon her 
dress a large " 5 " either in the shape of a solid gold 
ornament, or embroidered upon a scarlet jacket. 

Miss No. 5 was the accomplished daughter of a 
gentleman who had officiated as a surgeon in the army 
during the war of the United States with Mexico. 
Her father was rich, and the young lady herself was 
the owner of some scores of thousands of dollars in her 
own right. Being good looking, having a merry dispo- 
sition, and being thoroughly a Califomian " girl of the 
period/" she was the observed of all observers in the San 
Franciscan ball-rooms and a specially attractive person- 
age whenever riding or driving in the city or its suburbs. 
It had happened that when she was very young she had 
been rescued from a house on fire by the members 
of an Engine Company known as " The Knickerbocker 



"MISS No. 5." 291 

No. 5." It suited her whim in after-life to don the 
red jacket of the firemen, and wear the number of the 
company on her dress. The firemen had duly elected 
her one of their members, and she was always ready, 
when in San Francisco, to run with them and the en- 
gine to a fire, assist in extinguishing it, encourage the 
firemen, deliver speeches to them, treat them with 
drink, and make them costly presents of elegantly- 
manufactured insignia of a fire-company. Miss No. 
5 resided at the Occidental Hotel simply because, like 
many American ladies, she preferred hotel life to any 
other form of living. But she was thoroughly Calif ornian. 
She despised all conventionality, dressed as she pleased, 
went where she pleased, talked with whom she pleased, 
entered into the sports of her gentlemen friends with the 
keenest of relish, would challenge any of them to take 
a horse where she would take one, or fire a pistol with 
as steady a hand and as true an eye. One of her 
mad escapades was to seat herself on the iron bars in 
front of a railway engine — the " cow-catcher/' as it is 
called in the States — and ride at express speed along 
the Napa Valley Railroad. Her parents seemed to 
have little or no control over her. She spent her 
money freely and gave away largely for charitable 
purposes. She could be the most fascinating of 
young ladies one moment, and the next be acting the 
part of a great boy rather than that of an educated 
and accomplished girl. When tired of San Francisco 
she would rush off to New York and thence to Paris. 
She would be heading a fire-company in the streets of 
California to-day, and two months afterwards she might 
be seen gracing with becoming demeanour an Imperial 
ball at the Tuileries or figuring at Ascot races. She 
married some short time since, but left her husband in 

u 1'' 



292 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the most abrupt manner, though I believe that she has 
again rejoined him. Miss No. 5 was an exceedingly 
good-hearted young lady, but she was Calif ornian 
female eccentricity developed in its most intensified 
form. She took much interest in the entertainment 
which Artemus Ward was about to offer to the San 
Franciscan public, and was a most obliging and ener- 
getic advertising agent. Californian wild oats grow 
profusely. By this time I hope that Miss No. 5 
has sown her stock of that description of grain, and 
that having been a good friend to showmen she has 
duly met with her reward. 

Another and valuable class of advertising agents in 
San Francisco were the negro minstrel companies. 
They were next in importance to the newspapers, the 
clergymen, and the ladies. At the Eureka Theatre, 
the Melodeon, and at other places, the negro-minstrels 
drew large audiences. At the suggestion of a shrewd 
friend I supplied the " end-man" of each company 
with one of Artemus Ward's books, and left him to 
cull from it as many jokes as he pleased wherewith to 
entertain his audiences, exacting from him in return 
that he should mention the name of their author, and 
let the Californian public have notice of his early 
arrival. In the hope that Artemus would recompense 
the minstrels by supplying their exhausted repertoires 
with a few new jokes, they very readily consented to 
lend their aid in stirring up the excitement requisite 
to ensure success. 

San Francisco not being a good city for bill-posting 
stations, and some novelty in the way of announce- 
ment being desirable, the curb-boarding of the wooden 
side-walks was brought into service. Bound round 
the curb at all the principal corners of the streets 



TROTTING OUT THE BABES. 293 

of San Francisco appeared the following notifica- 
tion : — 

" ARTEMUS WARD WILL TROT OUT HIS BABES IN 
THE WOOD. PLATT'S HALL, NOV. 13." 

The announcement was just in that form which best 
suited the tastes of the Californian public. " Are 
you going to see Artemus trot out his babes ?" became 
a question on the streets. 

The press of San Francisco behaved in the most 
generous manner. The gentlemen connected with it 
were not only willing but anxious to aid one who had 
been himself a press-man, and who always felt pleased 
in referring to his connexion with newspaper literature. 
From the published volume which I presented to the 
Editors, extracts were freely made, short biographies 
of the writer of the book appeared in the daily 
journals, and very lengthy notices of his previous 
career helped to fill the columns of the weekly papers. 
Magnanimous was the behaviour of Colonel Lawrence 
of the Golden Era, who begged to be supplied with 
any amount of copy, and with enthusiastic liberality 
declared that he would make the forthcoming number 
of his paper an Artemus Ward number. He was 
duly furnished with biographical notes, critical essays, 
and samples of the humour of the new humorist. But 
not satisfied with the quantity of matter with which 
he was already stocked, he " took a drink," and then 
blandly said, " Can't you let me have an article about 
him in connexion with Shakespeare and Spiritualism V 3 

To confess inability to a Californian would have 
been absurd. Colonel Lawrence was therefore in- 
formed that he could have such an article if he par- 



294 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

ticularly wished for it, though how Artemus Ward 
was to be connected with the spirits or with Shake- 
speare, or why he should be connected with either, did 
not strike the mind as questions being easy of solu- 
tion. Spiritualism was a prominent topic in San 
Francisco just then. Hence it admitted of being used 
to advantage, but why Shakespeare ? The Colonel 
pointed out a ready mode of making up an article. 
"Get Mrs. Mary C. Clarke's Dictionary/' said he, 
" and see what you can find about ( Ward' in it/ 5 

Thanking the Colonel for the idea, I suggested that 
I might find some difficulty in obtaining Mrs. Cowden 
Clarke's " Concordance to Shakespeare" in a San 
Franciscan library. 

" Guess we've got her upstairs," was the reply. 
" Mary C. Clarke, Webster, and Lippincott are kinder 
useful tools in an office." 

It happened that on seeking for her we found that 
" Mary C. Clarke" had gone out for a visit ; but I 
easily obtained a copy at the office of the Daily Call. 
Subsequent experience taught me that there were few 
newspaper offices in the Western States at which a 
copy of Mrs. Clarke's valuable " Concordance" is not 
procurable. 

Colonel Lawrence required a sensation article, and 
here is the one with which he was supplied. That 
its literary merit amounts to nothing I am well aware, 
but as it pleased the Calif orni an public, served the 
purpose of a preliminary puff, and was a source of 
much amusement to Artemus on his arrival, I may 
be excused for giving it insertion : — 

"Shakespeare an Agent for Artemus Ward. — A 
Strangely New Phase of Spiritualism. — Spiritualism 



SHAKESPEARE MADE USEFUL. 295 

has originated many new and startling ideas. The 
mental vagaries of some of its professors outstrip the 
wildest conceptions of the most imaginative poets. 
The latest theory propounded is, however, by far the 
most surprising ; while the proofs adduced are of the 
most extraordinary description. 

" We will give the theory in a few words. Incor- 
porate mortals now existent, can not only hold com- 
munication with decorporated spirits, but the spirits 
of all who are to wear fleshly garb can also hold pre- 
sent intercourse with other spirits which have yet to 
be incarnated. 

" This theory is based on the doctrine propounded 
by the Rev. Charles Beecher, for which he was recently 
denounced by the convention of ministers at George- 
town, D. C. It is the doctrine of pre-existence ; — 
that our spirits have lived from all time as they are to 
live to all time. That the soul of John Smith lived 
long ages ago, as it will live in the immeasurable ages 
to come. Herein arose the opportunity for Belshazzar 
of Babylon to know all about the soul of John Smith 
whom we meet on Montgomery Street to-day. This 
is the strange new theory. 

" It is proven by the fact that Shakespeare knew 
Artemus Ward three hundred years ago, and acted 
then as f agent in advance' of Artemus, by advertising 
him to the full extent of his ability. Now Shake- 
speare must have known that the spirit of Artemus, 
when fleshified as Ward, would produce a good fellow, 
or he would not have done it. For Shakespeare him- 
self was a good fellow, and ought to have owned as 
many feet in the f Gould and Curry' as the best 
of us. 

" Here are the facts, startling we admit ; but as 



296 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

undeniable as any fact ever yet adduced in support of 
a theory : — 

u Shakespeare's acquaintance with Artemus was of 
long standing. e Thou knowest my old Ward/ says 
he. (i Henry IV. , act iv.) That he esteemed him 
highly is manifest, for he calls him ' The best Ward 
of mine honour/ (Love's Labour's Lost, act iii., scene i.) 
That he advises every one to hear him and to know 
him is plain, for says he not, ' Come to my Ward/ 
(Measure for Measure, act iv., scene iii.) That he 
himself had diligently to attend to the business of 
Artemus is certain, for his own words are, ' They will 
have me go to Ward. 9 (2 Henry VI., act v., scene i.) 

" Sometimes Shakespeare appears to have been per- 
suaded a little too strongly by Artemus, for his words 
are, ' I cannot Ward, what I would not' (Troilus and 
Cressida, act i., scene ii.) ; and again — wary fellow — 
( There are many confines, Ward. 3 {Hamlet, act ii., 
scene i.) Strangely prescient of the future fact that 
Mr. Browne would achieve fame about twenty-four 
months after adopting his nom- de-plume, he says of 
Artemus' father, ' His son was but a Ward two years/ 
(Romeo and Juliet, act i., scene v.) That he thought 
him to be smart, and to know as much as half a dozen 
men, is evidenced by his assertion that there are f men 
in your Ward/ (Measure for Measure, act ii., scene ii.) 
And, that he believed him to be guileless is demonstra- 
ble, or he would never have called him ( The Ward of 
purity/ (Merry Wives, act iv., scene iii.) Just as he 
knew him to be shrewd when he entitles him ' The 
Ward of covert/ (Measure for Measure, act v., scene i.) 
How plainly evident too it is, that the spirit of Artemus 
used to call upon Shakespeare (whether by raps on the 
table or at the door we know not), for does not the 



SHAKESPEARE ON " WARD.' 9 297 

poet answer him and say, f I am now in Ward ?' {All's 
Well that Ends Well, act i., scene ii.) And that he 
felt certain Artemus will one day get married, though 
at present a bachelor, is patent, for does he not speak 
of the 'Wife of the Ward?' (1 Henry IV., act iii., 
scene ii.) Ward's spirit, however, was not always 
truthful to Shakespeare ; the principal did not treat the 
agent candidly, for Shakespeare says, ' Ward, you lie/ 
(Troilus and Cressida, act i., scene ii.) And shortly 
afterwards, 'All these Wards lie/ (Same play, act and 
scene.) Possibly, however, Shakespeare was irritated 
at the time, and Artemus may have sent him a 
message by telegraph, which was slightly spoiled by 
the operator. 

" The above facts prove, however, that Shakespeare 
knew the great humorist of America in spirit ; that 
where he had a chance of saying anything for him he 
did it ; that he never lost a chance of mentioning his 
name, and was always an industrious agent. It now 
remains for Artemus to do his part; and, having 
become incorporate, to look about him in San Fran- 
cisco, and do the handsome in return for his spirit 
friend/'— E. P. H. 

San Francisco was well advertised. Artemus was 
the talk of dinner tables, the subject of jokes at the 
minstrel halls, the topic of humorous conversation on 
the streets. That he would attract a crowded audience 
to his first lecture became matter of certainty. His 
arrival was eagerly expected, and the steamer which 
was to bring him was over-due. The show was ready. 
It was the showman only who was wanted. 

On a bleak windy afternoon — and the wind can 
blow bleakly in San Francisco at times — the telegraph 



298 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

announced that the steamer was in sight of the 
Golden Gate. The day was Sunday ; precisely the 
day on which crowds of idlers could stroll down to the 
wharf and greet the new arrivals. Artemus landed 
amidst acclamations, and he and I drove off together 
to the Occidental Hotel. In the hurry of disembar- 
cation one of his boxes was left on board the steamer. 
It contained his best clothes. After a convivial wel- 
come at the hotel, a hospitable gentleman seized him 
by the arm and insisted on taking him away to dinner. 
Artemus declined the invitation, explaining that he 
was not sufficiently well attired to sit down at a dinner 
table with ladies, and that the box containing his 
apparel had not yet come on shore. 

" Never mind," urged the gentleman. " It doesn't 
matter what you wear in California/'' 

"That's fortunate. I never was much," replied 
Artemus. 

The joke told. It travelled over San Francisco that 
evening. 



PLATTS MUSIC HALL. 299 



CHAPTER XXII. 

A DANCE ON A FLOOR OF GOLD, AND EXPE- 
RIENCES OF CHINESE THEATRICALS. 

THE appointed evening (November 13, 1863) arrived. 
Piatt's Music Hall, San Francisco, was crowded. 
The price of admission was one dollar, and the receipts 
exceeded one thousand six hundred dollars, not in paper 
currency but in gold. Had the hall been larger we 
might have taken three thousand dollars, so great was 
the excitement and so numerous the people who pre- 
sented themselves for admission. We never knew to 
a dollar the exact sum taken, for the money-box was 
carried away by the pressure of the crowd, the money- 
taker escaping with difficulty. Aided by the police, 
a man was stationed with a hat in his hand for the 
people to throw in the silver dollars as they passed 
into the hall. Just as the hall became full the crown 
of the hat gave way. 

Artemus delivered his old lecture, entitled The 
Babes in the Wood, interspersing it with a few new 
jokes applicable to California. The lecture was well 
received, the lecturer loudly applauded, and the 
Rev. Starr King graced the platform precisely as 
Artemus had requested me in New York to arrange if 
possible. Mr. Maguire closed his opera-house that 



300 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

evening as he had promised to do, and when we 
returned to the hotel, Artemus was serenaded by a 
brass band under the direction of the gentleman 
who, on a previous evening, had " straightened" the 
trombone-player. 

So successful was the first delivery of the lecture, 
and so many were they who had not been able to 
obtain admission, that a repetition of the Babes in the 
Wood was at once announced for the evening of the 
17th of the same month, but to take place at the 
Metropolitan Theatre instead of Piatt's Music Hall. 
In the intervening days Artemus amused himself by 
seeing a few of the sights of San Francisco. 

" Would you like to walk on a gold floor three 
inches thick with gold ?" inquired Mr. Maguire. 

" I should like to dance on it," replied Artemus. 

His wish was gratified. Mr. Maguire asked Artemus 
and myself to accompany him to the banking-house 
of Messrs. Donahoe, Rallston and Co., on the corner 
of Sansome Street. He introduced us to the manager 
— one of the partners in the firm, and by him we 
were conducted into a small back parlour. On the 
floor, closely laid together, not long brought from the 
mines and awaiting shipment, were a series of large 
ingots of gold having the form of bricks. To Artemus 
the sight was a novel one, and after participating in 
a bottle of champagne with the manager of the bank, 
he requested permission to dance on the ingots, stating 
that he knew he should never have a similar opportu- 
nity, and that it would be something for him to tell 
about when he returned home. We whistled the air 
of " Hop Light Loo," while Artemus executed a 
" break-down " with admirable skill. 

The Chinese quarter of San Francisco possesses 



CHINA IN CALIFORNIA. 301 

irresistible attractions to an European, especially if 
he has not visited Asiatic countries. So intimately is 
it associated with the American portion of the city 
that the visitor can be among a community of " Down- 
Eastern " Yankees one minute and in a " Down- 
Eastern " Mongolian settlement the next. China and 
Boston jostle against one another. They are adjacent, 
but not intermixed. They are together, yet distinctly 
separate. Boston can climb the stairs to its roof-top 
and look down into China; while China can smoke 
its little brass-pipe, filled with opium, and gaze with 
moony, almond-shaped eyes into the dwellings of Boston 
and New York. The street which is American is that 
called Montgomery, and leading from it towards the 
hills is the street called Sacramento, which is most 
decidedly Chinese ; crossed by the street called Kearney 
which is half French and one- eighth Spanish, and 
crossed again by the street called Dupont, that pos- 
sesses attractions for all nationalities. Then there are 
lanes and alleys in the very heart of the city in which 
the houses are inhabited by Chinese women, imported 
by Chinese merchants; women who follow a life of 
sin while acting as wealth-producing slaves to their 
importers. There is also a joss-house or Chinese 
temple in San Francisco, to visit which on the Chinese 
New Year's Day is a treat of which many strangers 
avail themselves. 

Take a stroll up Sacramento Street and there is 
scarcely a product of the Celestial Empire which is not 
on sale. The names of the Chinese merchants are 
displayed over their stores, mOst of them in large gilt 
letters. Chi-lung, Hop-Quy, Whang-Fung, and Ah- 
loo are among the names which tell of the places of 
business where tea and dried oysters, fire-crackers and 



3 02 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

desiccated snails can be purchased by Mongolian, 
Caucasian, or Ethiopian, if he please to buy, and 
have the dollars wherewith to make the purchase. To 
the street boys of San Francisco it matters not whether 
the name of a Chinese gentleman be Whang- Flo, 
Chung-Moy, Hop-Loo, or Chow-Bent. He is sure to 
be addressed as " John." Enough that he has the 
features of a Mongol and the dress of a Chinese, and 
his name to the digger and the gamin will be " John 
Chinaman." 

A thrifty race are these CaJifornian Chinese. On 
the mines a Chinaman will find gold enough to buy 
his necessaries and to save for future use, where an 
American miner would not consider it worth his while 
to waste an hour of his labour. " John " will dig and 
delve, wash the soil or wash linen for the hotels, sell 
birds'-nest soup, scorpions' eggs and fish sinews to his 
own people, or turn cook and scullery -man to an 
American as long as he can make money thereby. What 
he makes he saves, or?expends among his countrymen 
on products of his native land. That which Western 
u barbarians " will give him he will take, but none of 
his own earnings is he willing to give them in ex- 
change. Whatever he requires for domestic consump- 
tion he prefers should come from China. The dried 
meats from his own country are thought by him to be 
better than the fresh meats of an alien race. Prime 
beef and well-fed mutton are not prized by him. He 
will eat American poultry, but he likes to feed it him- 
self. He will feast on cabbage grown on foreign soil, 
but it must be Chinese cabbage planted and reared by 
Chinese hands. Even his mining implements — his 
picks and spades and sieves, he imports from the 
Celestial Empire. Though living in California his 



CALIFOENIAN CHINESE. 303 

heart is in China. Should he die in America, his 
bones may repose in American earth for a brief period ; 
but after a time they are taken up, scraped clean, tied 
into bundles, and consigned duly labelled and assorted 
to be deposited among the bones of his forefathers in 
the land where his pigtail first begun to grow. 

Ah ! that pigtail ! The scrapes it has brought poor 
John into in California. Rude miners have seized it 
in ruthless manner, and lopped it off with savage glee. 
Before now, John has been hauled about by his pig- 
tail, tortured by having it severely pulled, and flogged 
with it after it has been severed from his head. The 
pigtail question became a grave one at last in the 
halls of the legislature at Sacramento. Californian 
legislators met in solemn conclave and declared that 
John Chinaman had a perfect right to his own pig- 
tail. By a law of the State he who cuts off John's pig- 
tail, without having John's consent to do so, is now 
liable to be sent to the State's prison. The pigtail 
of a Celestial is no longer a trophy which a valiant 
miner can hang up in triumph in his tent, just as the 
Red Indian suspends the dried scalp of his victim to 
his girdle. 

Chinese thriftiness and the adventurous spirit of 
many of the Chinese traders, have resulted in the 
Chinese merchants of San Francisco having become a 
very wealthy community. They form themselves into 
companies or " hongs/'' There are five or six of these 
'■ hongs" in the city — the Yung- wo and the Yan-wo, 
the Sze-yap and the Sam-yap, or San-yup. The 
president of this last-named " hong" or company is a 
very whole-souled Chinaman. His name is Chi Sing- 
Tong. He is a gentleman every inch of him, the 
inches of his pigtail included. He is liberal, munifi- 



3o 4 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

cent, enterprising, and intelligent, besides being a 
thorough good fellow in courtesy, suavity, and fair- 
dealing. Chi Sing-Tong, with his long, carefully-pre- 
served finger-nails, is a model Chinese gentleman, one 
who is literally " ad unguem f actus homo." 

Being numerous, wealthy, and fond of amusement, 
the Chinese of San Francisco have their own theatrical 
entertainments on a grand scale. The Chinese drama 
is peculiar. A good healthy Chinese play has an 
abundance of acts, and will last for three or four 
nights at the least. It is played in nightly instal- 
ments, and the spectator is supposed to be able to 
remember on Thursday night all the incidents which 
he chanced to see on Monday and Tuesday. John 
goes to the theatre as he goes to the mines, with a 
full determination to work hard and get all that can 
be got. He likes his amusement to be steady, con- 
tinuous, not too exciting, but of that mild character 
that a large quantity of it must be taken to produce 
any effect. 

Artemus Ward was a capital " audience" to the 
Chinese on the night he went to their theatre. The 
performance was to him so intensely ludicrous, that 
when he left the house he wandered around the streets 
of San Francisco for two or three hours, stopping every 
now and then to laugh heartily as he recalled something 
which he had seen in the course of the performance. 

Let me briefly describe what I saw at a Chinese 
theatrical performance in San Francisco. To a show- 
man, the manner of doing things on the Chinese 
stage was peculiarly interesting. A Mongolian drama 
is not to be witnessed easily without visiting Asiatic 
shores. To see one on the western shore of the 
Pacific was a treat to be enjoyed. 



CHINESE THEATRICALS. 305 

The theatre was the Opera-house. It had been 
hired by the Chinese for a brief term. On entering 
I found boxes, parquet, and gallery filled with an 
audience of Celestials. Here and there a few 
Americans and Europeans were discernible, but nearly 
all the visitors were male members of the Chinese 
community. The green curtain was down. Below 
its lower edge the thick-soled shoes of the Mongols 
were visible. No musicians occupied the orchestra, 
but from behind the curtain came the sound of a tom- 
tom and the squeak of some villanously- attuned 
catgut. 

Up went the curtain, disclosing what is technically 
named a chamber set. There were two large door- 
ways in the " flat" or back of the scene, each filled up 
with superbly embroidered curtains, the groundwork 
of each curtain being blue and the pattern in crimson 
and gold. Behind the doorways and at the very back 
of the stage were the musicians. They had no music- 
stands, nor any of the usual arrangements of an 
orchestra. The leader had a sort of violin resembling 
a mandoline in form. He supported it on his knee, 
using the bow after the mode of playing a violoncello. 
The notes were squeaky and harsh. Next to the 
leader sat a man who played on a clarionet-looking 
instrument, which gave out sweetly musical sounds 
resembling those of the bagpipe. Next to him was 
a Chinese Orpheus who played on a cocoa-nut, and 
another who thumped away vigorously on a tom-tom. 
One of the performers attempted to get music out of 
a piece of solid wood by smiting it with artistic pre- 
cision, while another tinkled away at a triangle. The 
music throughout the evening seemed an endless ac- 
companiment, like that played to a pantomime, with 



II 



3 o6 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

the difference that one monotonons air ran through it, 
and that the players sometimes allowed their voices to 
assist their instruments. Let the n's in the following 
lines be pronounced in the same manner as the 
Spanish n is in the word canon, and some idea may 
be formed of the sound : — 

Nang — nang — nang — nang 
Nya — nya — nya — nang 
Nang — nan g — nya — nya 
ISTya — nya — nang — nang. 

A polite Chinaman, who could speak broken English, 
kindly informed me that the play was to be an his- 
torical one, and that the heroine in it was supposed 
to be very valorous. So far as I could learn she was 
a sort of Chinese Joan of Arc. 

On the prompt side of the stage and at the "second 
entrance >} was a cloth stretched upon a number of 
upright sticks. The cloth was painted black and had 
white lines upon it, to give it the appearance of a wall 
of brick or stone. This I was informed was intended 
to represent the fortress which the Chinese Joan of 
Arc had to take. Behind it a man was stationed, 
ready when the right time arrived, to open a slit in the 
cloth and allow the conquering army to pass through 
tl&^ljreach made in the wall of the fortress. A Chi- 
nese property-man, in the ordinary attire of a Chinese 
shopkeeper, was busy on the stage when the curtain 
rose. In the theatres of the Western world the pro- 
perty-man is a functionary who furnishes the stage and 
supplies the actors with weapons, letters, purses, and 
snuff-boxes, but who is not visible to the audience. 
At this Chinese play the property-man was continually 
obtruding himself to public view. He brought swords 
and spears into the chamber scene when a battle was 



A CHINESE PROPERTY-MAN. 307 

about to be fought, hoisted a chair upon a table to 
serve as a throne when a king had to be crowned, 
and brought on a banner with " victory " emblazoned 
on it in Chinese characters, to be displayed when the 
fight should be terminated. 

Presently, the property-man having placed a table 
and chair in order, the curtain of one of the door- 
ways drew aside and a magnificently attired Chinaman 
made his entrance on the stage. Behind him followed 
a man bearing aloft a crimson umbrella of a tub-like 
shape, while behind him again were some gorgeously ar- 
rayed gentlemen, who had golden tigers embroidered on 
their backs and flying dragons over their stomachs. They 
came to the front of the stage, put their hands to their 
heads, bent their arms at right angles, and bowed 
profoundly. The gentleman over whose head the 
umbrella waved its crimson fringe then came down to 
the footlights, raised his left hand, extended two of 
his fingers, and after winking at the audience pro- 
ceeded to sing through his nose, the music keeping 
time to his nasal recitative. So far as I could learn 
from my Chinese informant, the singing performer in- 
formed his audience in the course of his song that he 
was a great Emperor, who could fight, would fight, and 
was not to be beaten. Having thoroughly ex£h&ned 
that much, he spun himself round four times on his 
left heel and marched out at the door to the right, 
winking again as he went. 

More loudly squeaked the stringed instrument and 
the clarionet with the bagpipe tone, as through the 
door to the left came sixteen valiant soldiers with their 
sleeves tucked up, each holding a sword in his right 
hand. Marching forward to the footlights the leader 
of the valiant band duly declared his intention to 

x 2, 



3 o8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

fight for the illustrious Emperor who had just made 
his exit. Having made this declaration he and his 
followers turned themselves round four times on one 
foot and marched out in the direction which the Em- 
peror had taken, flourishing their swords as they 
went. 

Twang and squeak went the music, and the 
Emperor reappeared, came to the front and sung for 
ten minutes, the purport of his song being, so far as I 
could learn, to inform the audience that he was really 
king of the castle and intended to remain so. When 
he had sung this three times over he recommenced 
and sung it three times over again. Then the man 
behind the cloth wall opened the slit in it and spread 
out the sticks. Marching very grandly, the monarch 
strode through and passed from sight. Now came 
the turn for his valiant army of sixteen to reappear. 
On they came, again tucked up their sleeves, and sung 
that they would fight for ever and ever in defence of 
the king and his castle. Then the cloth wall opened, 
and they also marched through with the step of heroes. 

The castle being no longer required, the property- 
man came on and helped to roll up the sticks and 
canvas into a bundle, which he deposited against one 
of the wings for future use. Now came the appearance 
of the insurgent chieftain who had resolved to depose 
the king of the castle. The Emperor de facto had 
presented himself in a bright blue dress. The rebel 
chief appeared in one of a bright scarlet colour. His 
face was painted, while that of the Emperor was par- 
tially concealed by a mask. Refreshingly absurd was 
the manner in which the rebel leader had " made up " 
for the occasion. One of his cheeks was coloured red, 
the other white. The eye over the red cheek was 



TEE ARMY OF SIXTEEN. 309 

closed up and painted white, as also was that portion 
of the forehead above it. The eye over the white 
cheek was open, but around it was painted a circle of 
black, and around that again a circle of crimson. The 
nose was coloured half crimson aud half white. The 
painted face was evidently intended to awe those 
around by the fearful sublimity of its expression. On 
the Chinamen it seemed to have some such effect. On 
the Europeans and Americans present I am afraid that 
it produced a contrary impression, and brought to mind 
recollections of pantomimes and burlesques. 

Down to the front came the rebel chieftain to tell 
the audience in a dreary song who he was and what 
he meant to do. Then snorting like a horse, shrieking 
like a peacock, and braying like a donkey, he spun 
himself round on his heel as all the others had done, 
and passed out of view. 

Enter again the sixteen soldiers, but with their 
sleeves this time tucked up inside instead of rolled up 
outside, to indicate that they now represented the rebel 
army instead of the imperial one. More singing, more 
turning on the heel, and out they went by the way in 
which they. came. 

Re-enter the rebel chief. Again the cloth castle 
was erected ; and, after singing that he meant to go 
through its gates with all his army, the brave fellow 
spun round like a tee-totum, and passed through the 
aperture in the cloth. Then returned the sixteen 
soldiers, sung what they meant to do, twirled them- 
selves round and followed their leader through the 
castle wall. Now for the first time during the even- 
ing a young lady made her appearance, but whether 
she represented the Empress, or the wife of the rebel 
chief, or the sweetheart of one of the soldiers, I could 



3 io THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

not decide. She hobbled down to the front, wearing 
very small shoes, did her share of singing in a high 
shrill voice, turned np the white of her eyes as if she 
were going to die, and otherwise distressed herself in 
an extraordinary and most unnecessary manner. While 
she was singing, the property-man was busy fetching 
and placing upon the table a formidable array of warlike 
instruments. There were triangular pitchforks, cutlasses 
made like a ploughshare, two-handed swords, spears 
with huge prongs to them and with tufts of coloured 
silk at the junction of the prong with the shaft. Then 
there were heavy clubs for felling a man at a single 
blow, and spikes for impaling him after he was slain. 
The melancholy singing lady made her exit. The 
Emperor, attended by his servitors, reappeared, 
with the rebel chief following him. His imperial 
majesty armed himself with one of the two-handed 
swords, while the arch-rebel possessed himself of the 
most formidable of the spears. Now commenced a 
fight between the two principal personages. Not a 
fight to music after the fashion of the terrific and 
sanguinary combats common to the English melo- 
dramatic stage, but a proper Chinese fight arranged 
according to the ideas of fighting prevalent in the 
Flowery Land. 

The general plan of the combat appeared to be that 
each belligerent should spin himself round on his heel 
three times and then make his cut or thrust. If 
either failed to complete the third gyration at the right 
time, so as to ward off the attack of his enemy, he 
received a stroke from the two-handed sword across 
the nape of his neck, or a thrust of the three-pronged 
pitchfork in the lower portion of his back. The 
Orientals appeared to enjoy " any amount " of this 



QUEER STAGE-FIGHTING. 311 

sort of fighting, but to a Western the protracted cha- 
racter of the fight became very tiresome. At length 
each combatant grew equally tired, and marched off to 
allow the sixteen soldiers, half with their sleeves tucked 
up inside and the other half with their sleeves tucked 
up outwardly, to continue the combat between them. 
There was no general melee. Pairs of the respective 
combatants engaged separately. One had a sword 
and shield. The other a spear. Much ingenuity was 
displayed in each turning three times round, and the 
swordsman falling on his knee to receive the thrust of 
the spear upon his shield. At length, throwing away 
both shield and sword, each pair of fighters com- 
menced wrestling for the possession of the spear. In 
the course of the wrestling each dispossessed the other 
of the weapon by lifting up the right foot, planting 
it suddenly against the chest of his opponent and 
forcing him down upon the floor. Then each made a 
bound in the air, threw a somersault and placed his 
foot on the neck of his fallen foe. The rebel party 
became the conquerors. One after another of the 
imperial army fell down dead, and apparently had the 
three-pronged pitchfork thrust through the small of 
his back by the victor. The moment a noble warrior 
was slain the property-man made haste to place a 
small pillow beneath his head to give him ease in his 
deathly attitude. 

After resting a short time with the back of his head 
on the pillow, the dead man arose and walked away, 
to reappear again in a few minutes and swell the 
ranks of the conquering army. To die right out one 
minute and arise resuscitated the next appeared to be 
no infringement of the rules of dramatic propriety. 
When alive again, the revivified soldier seemed to have 



3i2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

perfect liberty to belong to which of the two armies 
he pleased. 

Victory resting with the rebel party, the gentleman 
with one white cheek and one red one came to the 
front and sang a song of triumph with an air of the 
utmost self-complacency and the most remarkable 
leer of his single eye. While he was singing, the 
property-man hoisted a chair upon the table behind 
to constitute a throne. Portly as Falstaff was the 
rebel chief, and to hoist him up on the throne was a 
work of difficulty. When seated on it he stroked his 
chin three or four times, assumed an air of dignity, 
and proceeded to chant in a wearisome monotone the 
might of his majesty, the bravery of his arms, the 
awfulness of his power, and the terror of his one eye. 
His courtiers entered, twirled their right arms round 
their left ones, bowed low, spun round, and sang a 
song of flattery. Then the victor, being helped down 
from his throne, came to the front, twirled himself 
round three times, and marched off followed by his 
friends. 

Enter now the Chinese Joan of Arc. She made 
her appearance in a flowing robe, strode down to the 
footlights and sang in a doleful strain who she was, 
and what she meant to do if she knew her own 
mind. On a sudden she gave a shriek, rent off her 
outer robe, displayed the attire of a soldier, drew a 
pair of swords from her girdle, flourished them aloft, 
and spun herself round like a top. Then she bounded 
up, threw three somersaults, flung herself flat on her 
back, leapt up again, executed a back somersault, and 
then rushed madly out at the door, intent on pursuing 
the one-eyed monster, and on reconquering for her 
monarch the territories of which he had become dis- 



END OF THE CHINESE PLAY. 313 

possessed. Joan was worked up to it, and evidently- 
intended business. 

Once more appeared the Emperor and his army, and 
once more entered the one-eyed terror and his adhe- 
rents. This time the spears were all of extra length, 
the three- pronged pitchforks were much more formi- 
dable, the men had arrayed themselves in fighting 
uniforms far more awe-inspiring than those they wore 
previously. Shriek, scream, twist, twirl, spin, leap, 
bound, thrust, strike, wrench, struggle, and the fight 
went on furiously. But always before a blow was 
struck the striker jumped round three times, while he 
whom he was about to strike jumped three times round 
to meet him. The fight was grand; but the Chinese 
audience looked stolidly on, and seemed to be far too 
much engrossed with the serious state of affairs to 
move a muscle. The American spectators laughed 
boisterously and applauded with ecstasy. 

Now came a great scene. In the very heat of the 
fight one of the curtains at the back was drawn aside 
and in bounded Joan of Arc, turning head over heels 
twice to bring herself down to the front of the stage, 
and into the very midst of the combatants. She was 
armed with a pair of globes fastened to the end of a 
stick by means of a cord. Whirling these round her 
head, she brought them down with a thwack on the 
shoulders of the one-eyed usurper. He endeavoured 
to spear her ; but seizing his spear with her left hand, 
she belaboured him with the globes held in her right. 
Fairly conquered, he fell at her feet and died. The pro- 
perty-man first placed a pillow under the usurper's head 
to assist him in letting his last breath pass away quietly, 
then rolled him over to the back of the stage and gave 
him a kick to admonish him that he was dead and no 



314 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

longer required. Whereupon lie rose and walked off 
decently. 

While the property-man was getting rid of the rebel 
chief, Joan of Arc knocked down the rest of the insur- 
gents, belabouring them first with the globes and then 
thrusting her foot against the chest of each to topple 
them over. Her followers assisted her. Then entered 
some very terrible men, who, springing upwards, 
alighted upon the soldiers and knocked them 
over one after another. The fight became a 
matter of leaping, vaulting, and tumbling. The 
dead men rose and joined in it. Joan of Arc was in- 
furiated, and going to work vigorously, turned somer- 
sault after somersault, throwing over all her foes. The 
property-man brought the table down to the front to 
represent the walls of the fortress. Soldier number one 
threw himself over in the air, alighted on the table, 
and bounded over the painted cloth into the fortifica- 
tions. Soldier number two followed him, Joan of Arc 
sprang up, cleared the table at a bound, and was at 
once mistress of the fortress. The Emperor re-entered, 
Joan sang to him her victory, and he sang to her his 
thanks. Charles VII. was not more grateful to the 
French heroine than his majesty of China appeared to 
be to the Chinese one. The actors were tired out, 
and so, I think, were the spectators. 

When the green curtain fell a Chinese came in 
front of it and addressed the English-speaking part 
of the audience, anxious for their patronage on another 
occasion. This was his speech : — 

" 'Melliky man no sabe China play. All welly 
well this night now. Plenty more welly good to- 
molly night. All same other sort of play. Tanky 
you. Welly good night." 



VIG-KILLER, COOK AND ACTOB. 315 

By which was implied that an American man does 
not understand a Chinese play, and that the Americans 
amongst the audience had better come again the fol- 
lowing evening and witness some more of the same 
kind of performance. My own opinion differed from 
that of the courteous Chinaman. 

On another occasion Artemus Ward and I went to 
a Chinese theatre in California, where we witnessed 
the first act of a drama, the entire representation of 
which was to extend over a week. In order that the 
drama should be thoroughly complete, the birth of 
the hero was represented in the course of the first act, 
the baby was exhibited to the audience, and the 
medical attendant sang a long song eulogistic of his 
own skill as an accoucheur. Still later in the even- 
ing the same Chinaman who played the doctor, joined 
Artemus and myself in a game of American bowls. 
We asked him how he liked acting. 

" Welly good," was his reply. " Me killy pigs 
sometimes. Me welly good cook for 'Mellikans. 
Welly good actor too." 

Pig- killer, cook, and actor ! John was one of those 
useful artists who are well fitted to make their way in 
a new land. 



3i<5 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE GENIAL SHOWMAN IN STRANGE PLACES. 

THE Babes in the Wood were " trotted out" for 
the second time in San Francisco at the Metro- 
politan Theatre. Pecuniarily the second lecture was 
as successful as the first ; for although not so many- 
dollars were taken at the doors, the expenses were 
considerably less. 

Before delivering the lecture a third time in the 
same city, it was thought advisable to pay a visit to 
some of the towns down the bay, especially as invita- 
tions had been received from many of their influential 
inhabitants. The railway then extended as far as 
San Jose. 

Pretty, picturesque, sleepy San Jose ! Spanish in 
name, half Spanish in appearance, # and about one- 
eighth part Spanish in population. San Jose has its 
mission church, its convent, its alameda, its huts 
built of adobe, and its quaint old Spanish inns. 
Side by side with them are American hotels, American 
drinking- saloons, Yankee notion stores, and railway 
booking-offices. The Spaniard has lingered long in 
the pleasant valley. The New Yorker and the 
Bostonian are fast thrusting him aside. 

Charming, sunny San Jose ! Nursed in the lap of 



SLEEPY SAN JOSE. 317 

nature where she is enthroned with luxury, sheltered 
by mountains, and fanned by the breezes of the 
Pacific. With eyelids closed, and more than six 
thousand miles away from your sunshine and your 
flowers, you are as visible as though I looked down 
upon you from the hills steeped in sunlight, which 
shelter your gardens, your orchards, your drowsy old 
priests, your peaceful religious retreats, and your card- 
playing, cocktail- drinking Californians ! 

San Jose is not an American town ; that is, if one 
of the busy towns of New York or Massachusetts be 
taken as the standard whereby to judge. The inhabi- 
tants seem to have strength enough of mind to resist 
excitement, and philosophy enough to appreciate the 
excellence of inaction. The good people of San Jose 
take life calmly. They accept the fact of their being 
alive, and don't make a fuss about it. Had the San 
Franciscans been kind enough to leave them alone and 
not trouble them with a railroad, I believe their own 
exertions would never have brought one to their doors 
in the next two hundred years. And why a railway 
should have been introduced among them, I know 
not. Far more pleasant was it a few years ago to go 
down the bay in the steamboat, and after navigating 
through a network of marshes and channels, arrive at 
Alviso in the steamer Sophie McLane, land on a little 
wharf whereon were a few wooden huts, a flagstaff, 
and a coal-yard, away out in the fields ; with a coach 
to take you past groves and gardens, in sight of 
mountains and meadows, to the sleepiest of sleepy 
little towns, a seven miles' drive of rural loveliness 
and atmospheric enjoyment. The old college of Santa 
Clara, partially discernible among the trees to the 
right, and the nestling places of cosy, antiquated 



318 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

mission -churches visible in the valleys far away 
to the left, amidst the drowsy hills — hills whose sides 
are ever glowing with golden light, and their glens 
hazy with purple shadows. 

" It all depends where you make your pitch. There 
are not many good pitches in California now/' said 
Mr. Alexander to us, in reply to a question as to how 
many towns in the State we could visit with a good 
chance of making money in each. Mr. Alexander 
had pioneered circuses and travelled with minstrel 
bands. To him, as to most old showmen, the ex- 
cellence of a town consisted not in its architectural 
beauty, its historical interest, or its picturesque posi- 
tion, but in its capabilities as a place wherein to 
make money. The " agent in advance" surveys a 
town, and judges of it first to calculate the number 
of people in it who are likely to come to a show, and 
secondly, with regard to how many good walls it has 
for billing and posting. 

Mr. Alexander continued : — " Of course your best 
stands will be at Sacramento, Marysville, and Stock- 
ton. Folsom isn't much, and I guess you won't get 
much out of Oroville. — North San Juan is a very good 
one-night town. — So's Forest City. — So's Downieville. 
— Nevada City and Grass Valley are good one-night 
places for any show. — Placerville's caved in consider- 
ably. — Jackson will do for a pitch. — So will Moke- 
lumne Hill. — Murphy's ain't worth shucks. — You may 
make out at Sonora. — Columbia's gone up. — I can't 
say how Coulterville would turn out for you. — If you 
go to Copperopolis tell old Cardinell at the Hall to let 
you have some music. — lone City don't count. — 
Campo Seco's nowhere. — San Andreas never was 
much, and it's wilted considerably lately. — But there's 



THE THEATRE IN SAN JOSE. 319 

Vallejo, and Napa, and Sonoma, and Santa Rosa, and 
Petaluma. — They are all good pitches. Dollars 
are lying around loose for you in all of 'em — you 
bet/' 

" And how about San Jose ?" 

" Shy. I don't go much on her — not for your show. 
She's a sweet little town for a circus. Then's when 
her greasers turn out/' 

By the term " greasers " we knew Mr. Alexander 
to mean the Spanish-Mexican part of the population. 
As a matter of course they were not the right kind of 
people to attend a comic lecture by Artemus Ward. 
For all that Mr. Alexander had to say to the contrary, 
to San Jose we determined to go. Not only had 
offers been made and invitations tendered, but there 
were friends resident there on whose influence the 
lecturer thought that he could build prospects of doing 
a fair business. 

The hotel at San Jose had a polite landlord. He 
was a good host, with but one salient failing — he cared 
more about horses than he did about lectures. Very 
prophetic was he that Artemus Ward would be a great 
success in San Jose, and that he was just the very man 
whom everybody wished to see and hear. On the 
night of the lecture I looked round the theatre for 
him, but caught no glimpse of his radiant face. I saw 
him the next morning at the hotel when the bill was 
asked for. 

The theatre of San Jose was of wood. It had been 
built a few years previously by Mr. James Stark, an 
actor of some celebrity on the Pacific coast. Its in- 
terior was in a dilapidated condition. The boy who; 
found the keys for me, in taking me round the build- 
ing, pointed out a hole in the dress-circle through -, 



320 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

which another little boy while witnessing a perfor- 
mance had suddenly dropped down and fallen into a 
barrel of whitewash. At one time the stalls and 
dress-circle had been nicely carpeted, but the taste 
for the drama had decayed in San Jose ; so had the 
carpets. 

The agent at the Express Office had the letting of 
the theatre. His charge for it for a night was twenty 
dollars. He prognosticated great success. 

" You must have a band outside/' said he. 

Why a band for a lecture ? I objected to it, and I 
knew that Artemus would. 

"We always have a band/' said he. "There's a 
small balcony in front for them to play in. When 
they've done outside let them tune up in. You'll have 
a big rush as soon as the band strikes up." 

I concluded to have one. The Express-agent pro- 
mised to arrange it for me on economical terms. 

" And get up a bonfire/' he added. " It's the greatest 
thing out. The boys will light you up one in the 
road. It's a sure' thing. You can't have a better 
advertisement. When they see the smoke they'll 
come in from all parts." 

There were two newspaper offices to visit; that of 
the San Jose Patriot and that of the San Jose Mer- 
cury. At the latter I found one of the proprietors. 
He was working at case. Putting down his compos- 
ing-stick in a decided manner he replied to my an- 
nouncement of my business — 

" You'll want a lot of dodgers. We do them very 
cheaply at our office. Send your dodgers about and 
you'll have a good house. Well, I am glad to hear 
that we are going to have Artemus Ward. He's a man 
I have long wished to see. I think much of him, and 



<^>1 • — 111U11 




This edifice, which was built by, and is the property of, Brigham Young, 
will hold 3000 persons. It was here that Artemus Ward lectured on " The 
Babes in the Wood," in the course of his visit to Utah. 



PROPOSED MORMON TEMPLE. 




The view of this rather pretty building is copied from the original 
drawing by Mr. Truman O. Angell, its architect. Probably, however, it 



THE LEGISLATURE OF 1000 DRINKS. 321 

would do anything to serve him Dodgers of 

this size would suit you best. You'll want about a 
thousand." 

By " dodgers" the disinterested gentleman meant 
small hand-bills. I ordered the number required., and 
wrote out the prefatory notice I wished to appear in 
the paper. The worthy proprietor suggested that as 
he had been working hard he would put on his coat 
and take a stroll with me round the town for a little 
enjoyment. I found him to be an agreeable, well- 
informed, communicative companion. He proposed to 
point out to me a few of the noteworthy things in San 
Jose. I accepted his proposal with gratitude. 

u That white building with the trees round it, used 
to be our court-house," said he. u Look at the bullet 
holes in this door-post. They were trying a man in- 
side for murder. The people outside were afraid he 
would not be convicted, and had him brought forth. 
A shower of bullets was sent into him at once. Some 
were sent through him, and are sticking in that post 
now. — Here's our mission church. The old one was 
falling to ruin, and we have built up a new one around 
it, with the old one still inside. — That queer-looking 
old adobe house over there all of one story, with the 
white shingle roof to it, used to be the State House of 
California, and was so up to 1850. San Jose was the 
capital of California then, just as Sacramento is now. 
The legislature used to meet in that old house built 
of dried mud, just as you see it. A high old legis- 
lature it was too. They were the hardest-drinking 
lot of cusses California ever had. It used to be called 
1 The Legislature of a thousand drinks/ and the name 
wasn't a bad one. They'd drink whisky, aqua ardente, 
cassis, or cold poison, it was all the same to them. 

Y 



322 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

They made very good laws for all that, though they 
were the cussedest lot." 

Thus discoursing, my acquaintance of the San Jose 
Mercury wandered on. I remembered that on a former 
visit to the little town I had chanced to make the ac- 
quaintance of a nurseryman by the name of Lowe, who 
had in his garden some hawthorn bushes grown from 
berries plucked by Colonel Younger of San Jose, at 
Newstead Abbey, and brought over loose in his pocket. 
Mr. Lowe referred to his bushes as " Byron's haw- 
thorns." I inquired if the nurseryman were still alive, 
and if the hawthorns still nourished. My companion 
replied to my inquiry, and then after being silent a 
minute or two, spoke out abruptly, just as though he 
had hit upon some new and happy thought : — 

" Byron was deep — wasn't he ? He got off some 
good things." 

I evaded any comment on the criticism, and con- 
tinued the ramble. 

Mr. Lowe, the San Jose nurseryman, was originally 
from Chesterfield, in Derbyshire. I had a conversa- 
tion with him in i860, when he told me that he was 
once an assistant of Sir Joseph Paxton's ; that he went 
to California shortly after the Great Exhibition of 
1851, and landed with little or no money; that he 
was engaged to lay out a garden, and soon obtained 
other employment of the same kind. In his first year 
he cleared nearly four thousand dollars, and now pos- 
sessed land all over the country. 

" I have a league of it at San Luis Obispo," said 
he. " There's three hundred head of cattle on it. 
My second son is down there. He can throw the 
riata with any Mexican." 

The proficiency of his son in the use of the lasso 



SPAIN IN SAN JOSE. 323 

seemed to afford Mr. Lowe great satisfaction. 
Very pleased also was he with the diplomas of the 
State Agricultural Society awarded to him at Stockton 
and at Sacramento for being "the best cultivator of 
the smallest quantity of land." There was also 
another diploma awarded to Mrs. Lowe for having ex- 
hibited u the best specimens of Tomata Sauce/' 

"And it wasn't Tomata sauce after all/' said Mr. 
Lowe, rubbing his hands with glee. " It was mush- 
room catsup, and they didn't know the difference !" 

Everything in San Jose reminds the visitor of the 
Spanish origin of the place. At the telegraph office 
was written up, Telegrafo de la Compania del Estado. 
Se communica con todas las ciudades de California, la 
linea Pacifico y Atlantico por Los Angeles. Opposite 
the Mission Church was an announcement Officina de 
Diligencias de las Minas de Guadalupe y Enriqueta. 
Near to the stage office was a dealer in wines and 
strong liquors, whose sign was A Quevedo. A la 
Iberia. Vinos, Licores, y Viveres. The bakers' shops 
have the word Panaderia painted up beside the word 
" Bakery," and the restaurants, after notifying you 
that you can be refreshed with breakfast or dinner for 
fifty cents, inform you that you may have almuerzos 
y comidas at the same price. There was also a 
Chinaman who had painted over his door, and who 
probably has the same announcement there still — 
" Com Son. Washing and Ironing, Lavados y plan- 
chados. Blanchisserie, Soap-place. Hooray /" The 
last word was evidently a joke of the sign-painter. 
Possibly Com Son supposed it to mean clear-starching 
or mangling. 

Great artists in their way are the Chinese laundry- 
men of California. They are to be found not in San 

Y % 



3 2 4 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Francisco and the large towns only, but in all the mining 
camps throughout the country. As a rule., John 
Chinaman, when developed as a washerman, is to be 
seen in a small shop, ironing shirts or petticoats at a 
table close by the window. On the table is a pan of 
burning charcoal, and near to it a large wash-basin 
filled with rice water. John does not sprinkle the 
linen with his fingers, but dips his face into the wash- 
basin, fills his month with the rice water until his 
cheeks are well distended, and then blows the glu- 
tinous fluid in the form of spray over the linen he is in 
the act of ironing. The large heavy irons are heated on 
the pan of charcoal, and John puff's out his rice water 
spray without stopping the motion of the iron. As a 
getter-up of fine linen he is highly to be commended. 
He manipulates a shirt-front to perfection, washing it 
spotlessly white, and polishing it to glossy smoothness. 

The devotion of the Chinese to the laundry art has 
been a great boon to Californians. A few years ago 
it was difficult to get anything washed in San Fran- 
cisco. The female inhabitants had minds superior to 
soapsuds, while even the poorest of the male popula- 
tion preferred to wash the golden soil rather than rub 
and rinse soiled garments. The hotels had to charter 
small vessels and send their bed linen to Honolulu, in 
the Sandwich Islands, to find a laundry. A pair of 
sheets or a table-cloth then had to make a voyage of 
more than a month out and home, to be cleansed by 
natives of the islands where Captain Cook was slain, 
and of which Kamehameha is king. They were 
sent to the blacks to be whitened. 

Apathetic San Jose had been duly dosed with 
"dodgers." The editors of both the newspapers had 
befittingly heralded the lecture, and the evening for its 



A BONFIRE AND A BAND. 325 

delivery had arrived. From the paucity of applications 
for tickets at the various places where they were de- 
posited on sale, there was reason to expect that Mr. 
Alexander would be right in his prophecy of San Jose 
being " shy/' and that, however much it might be a 
" sweet little town for a circus/' its sweetness was not 
likely to prove very saccharine to a comic lecturer. 
But, for other reasons than simply to get dollars, Ar- 
temus had desired to visit San Jose, so that if expenses 
should chance to be taken, together with the slightest 
margin of profit, there would be no disappointment. 

Carpenters had repaired the dilapidations of the 
theatre, and a black man had swept the floor, brushed 
the seats, and made ready the stage. Into the little 
balcony in front of the house went a noble band of 
musicians, consisting of one clarionette player, three 
gentlemen with horns, and one with a drum. The 
latter slightly the worse for whisky, and consequently 
more vigorously disposed for music. A goodly group 
of enthusiastic little boys volunteered to light up a 
bonfire, and the loafing part of the community soon 
began to appear upon the scene. A troupe of Mexican 
youths smoking cigarettes arranged themselves in line 
against the side of an adjacent hotel, the name of 
which was the Mansion House, and a bevy of giggling 
girls, very dark in complexion, and each with a bunch 
of flowers in her hand, collected around the coach- 
office opposite. Looking up the road to the right, 
some waggons were seen coming in from the country 
bringing a portion of the destined audience, and, look- 
ing down the road to the left towards the town, the 
good people of San Jose were noticeable, sauntering 
slowly along towards the theatre with provoking tran- 
quillity of manner. 



326 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Loudly played the band, brilliantly burnt the bon- 
fire, gently came the crowd, 

"A gentleman round the corner at the Express 
Office wants to see you," said a little boy, running up 
breathlessly ; the first energetic individual except the 
excited drummer who had appeared upon the scene. 

I obeyed the summons. It was Artemus who had 
sent for me. " Shall we have any house ?" he 
asked. 

I replied that it was early yet, and that I knew 
from previous experience the people of San Jose were 
not the same as other people of the American conti- 
nent, nor disposed to do anything too hastily. 

" Confound that band ! The whole thing is 
ridiculous. What do you want with a band to a 
comic lecture ?" observed Artemus, in an irritated 
manner. 

u Well, it's our ordinary way/' replied the man in 
office. " Our people go great on music. They don't 
know when they've to go in till they hear the 
band strike up. Take care and liquor up that drummer. 
He'll beat 'em in like thunder." 

There was no need for the advice. As I returned 
round the corner, the drummer was hauling up some 
whisky into the balcony by means of a string to which 
a bottle was attached. 

The bonfire blazed, the band blew bravely, the 
public of San Jose had assembled, but the theatre was 
still empty. 

" Massa muss get de musicianers in soon when de 
ladies and gen'elmen are all ready," suggested the 
African gentleman who acted as bill-poster, cleaner of 
the theatre, whitewasher, and custodian of the Con- 
gregational Church close by. 



THE ARTIST ON THE DRUM. 327 

I found upon inquiry that the negro was correct in 
his information. The evening was fine, the bonfire 
brilliant, and the music attractive. Not until I 
allowed the fire to go out and the instrumentalists to 
go in was there a likelihood of our having a good 
house. I acted accordingly, and proceeded in quest 
of Artemus to inform him that his audience were 
inside, and that he might safely make his way to the 
theatre. 

" What have you done with the artist on the drum ?" 
he inquired 

I replied that the drummer was in the orchestra 
fronting the stage, playing his instrument courageously. 

" But I am not the Colleen Bawn nor Richard the 
Third. What do I want with an orchestra? What 
will the people expect? Do stop them before I go 
in, or those musical idiots will start up See the Con- 
quering Hero, or some other nonsense. And turn out 
that drummer — he's abominable." 

Hastening to execute my errand, 1 met half a dozen 
people assisting a wounded man from the theatre. At 
a glance I recognised the drummer. He had left his 
whisky bottle in the balcony, and during my absence 
had quitted the orchestra to fetch it. The stairs were 
narrow, the drummer unsteady. To use Mr. Alex- 
ander's phrase, he had found a bad "pitch" at San 
Jose. 

Artemus lectured. I am afraid that the good people 
of the town were slightly disappointed. They laughed 
heartily at what they heard, but there were some 
among them who, as they went out, expressed regret 
at not having seen " Mr. Ward's wax-works." They 
wanted a show to look at, not to listen to. Had they 
been treated to some " ground and lofty tumbling," a 



328 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

little conjuring, a cock-fight, or anything equally 
intellectual, I believe their minds would have discovered 
more matter for meditation and have been better 
satisfied. Dollars enough were taken to pay expenses 
and leave a slight surplus. So far things had gone 
well with all but the drummer. As we left the theatre 
a gentleman from the neighbouring town of Santa 
Clara introduced himself to Artemus, and urged the 
advisability of lecturing there. 

" You are sure of an immense house/' said he. " I 
will do all I can for you. You can charge just what 
you please. We are warm-hearted people in Santa 
Clara, and we want you bad. Sakes alive, man ! 
they'll come to see you with a rush, like a shower of 
little apples.-" 

I suggested that perhaps the enthusiastic gentle- 
man would be willing to speculate, and to pay down 
a certain sum with a chance of making a profit for 
himself. He evaded the proposal, remarking — 

" It don't run in my line. Besides, I want Mr. 
Ward to have all the money he makes. There's a 
pile waiting for him over there in Santa Clara. He 
might give his lecture in the College first, and then in 
the little Chapel behind. We are all warm-hearted, 
and he'll have a good time of it. It's the best 
little place in all the valleys, and full of big-souled 
people." 

Artemus promised to lecture in Santa Clara. The 
town was only three miles distant. We had a day or 
two to spare, and if no money should chance to be 
made, none was likely to be lost. 

On the evening after the lecture in San Jose we 
were wandering through the city together, when 
passing a small Spanish-built house in the outskirts 



AMONG MEXICAN SADDLES. 329 

we noticed a pair of handsome Mexican saddles. The 
door of the house was half open, the saddles were 
hung up inside. Seated near them, smoking a 
cigarette, was a young and pretty Spanish woman, far 
more handsome than the saddles. 

" We could make a sensation riding down Broad- 
way, New York, on those saddles," observed Artemus. 
" Let us go in and look at them." 

An English saddle of common pig-skin and a well- 
made Mexican saddle with all its adornments are 
about as like to one another as a schoolboy's e< fizgig" 
of wet gunpowder rolled into a cone is to Mount 
Vesuvius in eruption. 

The Mexican saddle is large, heavy, showy, and 
often of many colours, It has macheos, or large 
flaps of leather very grandly embossed, and leathern 
casings for the stirrups of marvellous construction and 
solidity. A Mexican saddle would not be a saddle 
if it were not a thing for show as well as for 
use. So the macheos are embossed and also the 
tapaderos or stirrup-casings. So are the long leather 
chicaros which are interposed between the horse and 
the rider; and so is the ancara on the back of the 
animal. The fraena, or bridle, is made as ornamental 
as possible, while the foosta, or high pommel in front 
for holding the riata or lasso, is a curiously-con- 
structed and characteristic portion of the extraordi- 
nary mass of leather, iron, wood, brass, and twisted 
hair which a Mexican horse has to carry for the com- 
fort and ideas of grandeur that have possession 
of the mind of its rider. 

We were examining the saddles, and asking a few 
questions of the Spanish lady relative to the value of 
the highly-decorated pieces of leather-work, when an 



330 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

olive-complexion ed, dark-browed, tall fellow, wearing 
a very wide sombrero, and having in his grasp a heavy 
riding-whip, rushed into the house, glanced first at 
the pretty Spaniard, then at Artemus, and closed the 
door with violence. 

" Como esta uste, sefior V said Artemus, airing 
his recently- acquired Spanish to assist him in the 
emergency. 

The man made no reply, but strode up to the 
woman and brandished the stock of his heavy whip. 
At the same moment we noticed that his other hand 
was fumbling with the hilt of a pistol in his girdle. 

Drink and jealousy had evidently got the upper 
hand of the infuriated Mexican. Artemus and I 
comprehended our position, and the poor woman 
glanced pityingly towards us as she cowered back 
into a corner of the apartment. 

In the middle of the room was a stout heavy table. 
On it a lamp was burning. The one chance of escape 
was perceived by both of us simultaneously. 

Artemus blew out the lamp as I pulled back the 
latch of the door. In a few seconds we were in the 
open street. Before we could turn the corner, we 
heard the report of a pistol. I fancied that I felt 
the bullet whizz by my ear. Almost at the same 
moment we heard the drunken fellow who had fired 
at us fall on the ground, uttering a loud oath as he 
stumbled. 

When we had gained the open road Artemus 
laughed, and observed jocosely — 

" Comic lecturing has nothing to do with saddlery. 
Old fellow, just keep your comic lecturer to his busi- 
ness, or you'll lose him. That Mexican wanted to 
saddle the wrong horse." 



A TENACIOUS GBEASEB. 331 

In half an hour afterwards we met the gentleman 
who had printed the " dodgers" for us. To him we 
told the particulars of the adventure. His sympathy- 
manifested itself in an invitation to take a drink. 

" Them Greasers are a caution," said he. "I 
guess the man was tenacious — a kind of tenacious, 
you see." 

The Mexican's tenacity reminded me of the Yankee's 
criticism on a boa-constrictor. Being asked what he 
thought of one, he replied, " Wall, he ain't what yeou 
may call a playful kind of a critter, but I guess he's 
got a considerable heap of affection in him when he 
twists." 



332 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE WARM-HEARTED PEOPLE OF SANTA CLARA. 

WE are all warm-hearted people in Santa Clara/' 
was the alluring commendation of the gentle- 
man who invited us to visit the little town. 

As we rode along towards the place, I asked Artemus 
in what way he thought the warmth would be 
manifested. 

" Warm hearts always want free tickets/' he replied. 
" I once lectured at a place in Connecticut where a 
whole-souled manufacturer of sewing machines asked 
me if I didn't feel a great wish to be introduced to his 
family. I told him that my inclinations were that 
way. People said he was the warmest-hearted man 
in the -whole place. In the evening he brought him- 
self, his wife, and sixteen nephews and nieces. He 
introduced them all, and said they would just take 
seats and listen. They filled all my front-seats. Next 
day I sent for the admission-money. Answer came 
back that a mistake was made. They were all Mr. 
Ward's friends, and couldn't think of paying; but 
their hearts were as warm to me as ever — bless 
them !" 

The road from San Jose to Santa Clara is about 
three miles in length, and exceedingly beautiful. Grand 



SANTA CLARA. 333 

old pollard willows overshadow it on each side. In 
days past it was the Alameda along which the priests 
of the San Jose mission walked in procession to visit 
the Jesnit fathers of Santa Clara. Though profane 
intruders have now populated the district, the old 
Catholic faith still retains its hold among the people. 
The priest is still a power in the pleasant valleys 
of Southern California, and the mission churches are 
some of the most picturesque objects in the land. While 
travelling in this part of the world a doubt is apt to 
cross the mind of the traveller whether he is really in 
California. Can this be the new country, the name 
of which was scarcely seen in print a quarter of a 
century ago ? Can this be the land of gold to which 
fortune-seekers from all parts of the earth have 
recently found their way? Here, where the convent 
bell tolls and the wooden crosses by the roadside invite 
wayfarers to pray. Are we on the far side of the 
American continent, or are we in Southern Europe? 

We had left the Colegio de Ninas behind us, and 
were hastening along the willow-shaded road when we 
were recognised by a gentleman who had met Artemus 
in New York. 

u Rip, slap, here we are again ! w exclaimed the 
traveller, mirthfully. " Glad to see you, Mr. Ward ! 
Heard you lecture in 'Frisco the other evening. You'll 
do business out in this country/' 

A few compliments passed. Artemus then inquired 
what errand had brought the gentleman to California. 
" Just started an anatomical museum — branch of 
the one in New York," replied our new acquaintance, 
who was a young Jew, with very pronounced features 
and much suavity of manner. " Have large collection 
of models — good show — give anatomical lectures every 



334 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

evening — got a smart man to do that — make a fortune 
with museum here — bad luck though last week with a 
new Venus from Italy." 

"We sympathized with the museum proprietor, and 
requested further particulars relative to his unlucky 
Venus. 

" She was a beautiful figure/' he continued, 
"splendidly modelled — made in Florence — best wax — 
quite as good as Sarti's one used to be — was packed 
in a case along with a pair of Napoleon's hands, 
modelled in harder wax. Steamer people were 
cautioned to be careful how they stowed the case on 
board. Would you believe it ? The fools put it near 
the engine-room. What with the hot weather in the 
tropics and those plaguy boilers, my Venus was a gone 
goose. When I came to unpack her, I found her 
lower parts all melted away. Napoleon's hands had 

welded themselves clean on to her knees. D n me ! 

if she hadn't four hands and no feet at all. My 
brother took some models out to Australia and they 
melted up just in the same way." 

" I should exhibit her all the same," remarked 
Artemus. 

" I think I shall," was the reply. " Good notion 
to call her a freak of nature — eh? Born in the 
middle of Asia. D n me if I don't ! The Circas- 
sian phenomenon modelled after life. I'll do it, and 
have her history written up to-morrow." 

We laughed and parted. Our Jewish friend — who, 
by-the-bye, styled himself a doctor — took the direction 
of San Jose and we that of Santa Clara. After an 
interval of silence, Artemus observed — 

" There are two social puzzles I cannot solve. 
Perhaps you can, old fellow. One is why baker's 



THE COLLEGE OF SANTA CLARA. 335 

stores have a monopoly of the church notices and 
go-to-meeting bills in their windows, and the other is 
why advertising anatomical museums are always kept 
by Jews, who in reality are money-lenders ?" 

We arrived at Santa Clara before we had solved 
satisfactorily either of these problems. 

Near the gates of the Jesuit College we met the 
gentleman who had guaranteed the warm-heartedness 
of the little town, and whose advice had prevailed over 
Artemus to consent to lecture in the place. He 
approached us in a jaunty manner, and was profuse in 
his expressions of welcome. We inquired if he had 
made any arrangements for the lecture to be delivered. 
His reply was that he was then about to call on the 
Principal of the college, and hoped to be able to secure 
the college lecture-room, which would also include the 
attendance of the students, who were numerous and 
for the most part wealthy. He added that the Prin- 
cipal was a very warm-hearted man, and that he had 
left a copy of Artemus Ward — His Book with him to 
read. An immediate introduction to the Principal was 
proposed. Artemus after much hesitation consented. 

We were ushered into a little room on the left of 
the entrance. Religious pictures adorned the walk. 
A crucifix was over the mantel. 

" They won't stand comic lecturing here," suggested 
Artemus to our guide. 

" Oh yes, they will. Very good boys all. Like a 
little fun. Are always having lectures on one thing 
or the other." 

Artemus smiled incredulously. Presently the Prin- 
cipal made his appearance. A portly father of the 
Church, very gentlemanly in demeanour. In his hand 
was the small volume of which Artemus was the author. 



336 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Introductory preliminaries being over and the 
nature of our visit explained, his Reverence gravely 
inquired — 

" Do you propose to lecture on a philosophical 
subject ?" 

"No — history/' replied Artemus. 

The Principal informed us that he had looked over 
the little book, the character of which he confessed 
that he could not clearly comprehend, though it did not 
appear to him to be historical. After apologizing for 
not being better acquainted with the literary reputation 
of Mr. Artemus Ward, he concluded by asking what 
department of history was intended for the subject of 
the proposed lecture. 

" Early history /' replied Artemus — " The Babes in 
the Wood." 

" Do you mean Romulus and Remus ?" 

" No, little Billy Smith and his sister. It's a fairy 
tale of the ancient Greeks in New England. Your 
college would like it I am sure/' continued Artemus, 
gravely. " All colleges do. Students howl over it." 

After a few minutes' deliberation the Principal shook 
his head and politely declined the proposal, intimating 
that he was afraid the subject was not suited for the 
institution. 

" Never mind," said our introducer, as we passed 
out at the door. " I guess we'll go round and take 
St. Mary's Hall. The students will all come round 
and hear you there. They are all warm-hearted 
boys." 

St. Mary's Hall we found to be too dilapidated, 
but there was a small Methodist Chapel close by, the 
use of which was offered to us. We accepted the offer, 
and issued our bills with as little delay as nossible. 



WARM-HEARTED PEOPLE. 337 

The evening arrived. We opened the chapel doors 
in good time. From the road, people on the ontside 
could see the lecture-table, with two large tallow 
candles burning on it. We awaited the warm-hearted 
public of Santa Clara. 

Two or three boys looked in at the chapel door, and 
in course of the first quarter of an hour after opening, 
one man paid. Artemus walked up and down on the 
opposite side of the road, smoked a cigar, and watched 
results. Our enthusiastic friend who had induced us 
to visit the place presently made his appearance on the 
scene. He brought with him three of the town 
officials and asked that they might be passed to seats. 
He also informed us that the Principal of the college had 
given orders that all the students should be locked in, 
and none of them allowed to attend the lecture ; a pro- 
ceeding on the part of the Principal by no means com- 
plimentary to Artemus, but testifying to a commend- 
able zeal in superintending the historical studies of his 
collegians. 

Eight o'clock, and only eight persons for an 
audience ; three had paid, the other five were " dead- 
heads." 

" Is this about the usual heat of their generous 
hearts ?" asked Artemus. 

" They're mean to-night — very mean/' replied the 
eulogist of Santa Clara. " I attended myself to your 
bills going out properly. I guess they all know you 
are here. Perhaps the tickets are a little too high in 
price." 

"For a warm-hearted people?" asked Artemus. 

" You see they are a little cantankerous at times. 
Besides, Mr. Ward, we are all farmers here in the 
valley, and there's been a good deal of blight about 

z 



338 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

this season, and all the Judge's children have got the 
scarlet fever. Small-pox is considerable too in most 
families, and " 

" For goodness sake go and send those people home 
and blow out the candles/' interrupted Artemus, 
imploring me to dismiss the audience. 

I urged him to undertake the task of dismissal 
himself, but he declined the honour, preferring to 
stand in the road and laugh at my perplexity in having 
to tell eight good people of Santa Clara that they 
must return to their homes without hearing the 
lecture. I explained to them in a few words that it 
would be impossible to deliver a humorous lecture to 
so scant an audience, and handed back to the three 
who had paid the dollars they had disbursed. One of 
the three gentlemen asked me if Mr. Ward was near 
by. I accompanied him to the door, and introduced 
him to Artemus. 

"Sorry for you, Mr. Ward/' said he. " It's a hard 
place this, but just bring your candles across to my 
store at the corner over there. We'll soon have a fire 
built in the office. Our friends here will come with 
us. If we can't have a lecture we'll have some 
whisky." 

We accepted the proposal. The gentleman by whom 
it was tendered kept a large grocery and hardware 
store, behind which he had a comfortable room used 
as a counting-house or office. We locked the chapel 
door, carried the lighted candles across the road, and 
adjourned in a body to partake of the grocer's hospi- 
tality. 

With good whisky and funny stories an hour passed 
pleasantly away. Two sisters of the grocer and three 
of their young lady friends came in and desired to be 



PUNCTUAL MEN 339 

introduced to Mr. Ward. They had intended to be 
in time for the lecture, but had promised to call fcr 
their doctor, and had been delayed. 

" Our doctor is provokingly punctual/' said one of 
the young ladies. " He always has his watch in his 
hand. We were to have been at his office at a quarter 
to eight. It was just twelve minutes to it when we 
got there, and he said it was too late. The cross old 
fidget wouldn't come/' 

" Punctual men are nuisances/' remarked Artemus. 
" Where their heart should beat they have only a 
clock ticking. Your doctor is like the New England 
doctor I tell about sometimes. He was very punctual. 
When his wife died he went to her funeral. As the 
earth fell on her coffin everybody around cried. All 
he did was to take out his watch, look at the time and 
say — f Well, we've got her under, and it's just twenty 
minutes past two !' " 

Conversation was brisk. The grocer and his friends 
were very merry. Presently we ascertained that the 
young ladies came from New York, and that, late in 
the evening, they were going to make up a " surprise 
party," to pay a visit to a newly-married pair not long 
settled in Santa Clara, and who also came from New 
York. Invitations were tendered to us, and accepted, 
to join the party. Other young ladies soon came in, 
and with them came three or four young men bearing 
a hamper, together with a gentleman who brought 
with him a violin. It was not long before we learned 
the cause of our having failed to attract an audience 
to the lecture. In Santa Clara it was a night of 
party- giving. People were too busy visiting to go 
out listening. 

" But, really, it is a shame ! We should so much 
z % 



340 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

have liked to hear you lecture. Oh, do let us hear 
some of it \" petitioned the ladies to Artemns. 

Petitioners so pretty and so pressing were irre- 
sistible. Artemus told them that if they would 
go out in the front store and there make an 
audience, he would do his best in the way of comic 
oratory. 

Lamps and candles soon illuminated the store. A 
flour-barrel was hoisted on the counter to serve as a 
lecturing desk, and the ladies disposed themselves on 
chairs, tea-chests, bags of rice, coils of rope, or what- 
ever came handiest for a seat. Some coffee had been 
hastily made. It was passed round to the ladies 
before the lecture commenced. 

Artemus perched up on the counter, a candle 
burning on the flour-barrel before him, and a 
small parcel of mouse-traps dangling from the 
ceiling over his head ; gentlemen seated smoking 
cigars on the counter, and ladies sipping coffee 
while they enjoyed the impromptu style of enter- 
tainment : such were the^urroundings of the lecture 
in Santa Clara. 

After the lecture came the adjournment to the sur- 
prise-party. The peculiar form of social fun known 
asa" surprise-party " in New York and elsewhere in 
the Union is characteristic of America. Considered 
as a compliment paid to those to whom it is given, 
some people would regard it as an unwarrantable in- 
trusion on privacy. 

It consists in making up a number of jovial ac- 
quaintances to go in a body to the house of one 
whom they know, surprise him at bedtime or there- 
abouts, compel him then and there to give a party, and 
accept the visitors as self-invited guests. Usually the 



A SURPRISE PARTY. 341 

host and hostess have some slight notification of that 
which is abont to happen, but frequently no previous 
notice is given ; and if the good people to be compli- 
mented have retired to rest, they have to rise again 
immediately, turn on the gas, and join in the night's 
festivity. They are put to no further trouble, for the 
surprisers bring with them their own servants. Ex- 
pense there is none, for in hampers and baskets the 
guests carry with them to the house of the party sur- 
prised all the eatables and drinkables required for 
supper and refreshment during the night. Nor is it 
unusual to take with them plates, knives and forks, 
salt-cellars, and pepper-boxes. The guests really take 
full possession of the house, give the entertainment, 
provide everything required, arrange the programme 
of amusements, constitute themselves their own 
masters of the ceremonies, and do just as they please. 
The master of the house and his family are for the 
time nothing more than privileged persons in their 
own domicile. 

Thoughtfully and judiciously the ladies had packed 
the hampers at Santa Clara. Cold meats and cake 
and wine were in abundance. Artemus and I felt 
that we could not go empty-handed. I noticed that 
among other articles in the store was some French 
brandy of a good brand, and purchased a couple of 
bottles to stow awav in the pockets of my outer coat. 
Artemus looked round, and discovered on a shelf half 
a dozen jars of olives. 

" Hand me down those olives," said he. " We 
are going to visit newly-married people. I shall pre- 
sent them with those jars of olives and a pot of honey. 
The honey they can eat, and keep the olives to grow 
and have branches." 



342 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Thus laden we went to the surprise-party. Music, 
dancing, and flirtation constituted the entertainment. 
The surprised host was exceedingly forgiving to his in- 
truders, while the lady of the house was amiability itself. 
Morning arrived before the merriment terminated. 

Artemus, tired and sleepy, was silent and grave in 
the carriage as we travelled to San Francisco. I re- 
marked to him that he did not look like a humorist. 
He replied — 

" No_, I am a headacheist/* 



V 






AMERICAN ADAPTABILITY. 343 



CHAPTER XXV. 

SPIRITUALISM AND CONJURING. 

C^ ENTLEMEN, I have got a big thing — very 
? big — and money in it/' said Mr. Samuel 
Wilder, calling in the evening at the Occidental Hotel 
and finding Artemns and myself busily engaged 
arranging the lecturing tour through the gold 
mines. 

Mr. Wilder spoke in a low voice, as though he was 
afraid that some outsider would hear of his good for- 
tune and do him injury. He drew his chair up close, 
and having made his announcement, proposed in true 
Californian style t(> stand drinks at his own expense 
before proceeding*™ business. 

To Artemus Mr. Wilder was an old friend, while to 
me he was but a recent acquaintance ; but I knew 
enough of him to be aware that he was an enter- 
prising man, ready to enter into any speculation that 
might offer a chance of being remunerative. Amongst 
many other avocations he had been proprietor of a 
circus or two, a dealer in real estate, an entrepreneur 
of acrobats, a wholesale jeweller, a trader in mining 
stock, a proprietor of coaches, and I believe at one 
time a banker. He was a capital illustration of the 
adaptability of the American to any pursuit, a peculi- 



344 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

arity which forms a national characteristic. Appren- 
ticeship to any art or calling is not thought to be re- 
quired in the United States. A Yankee leams a trade 
in six months to which an English youth is apprenticed 
for seven years. In professions, instead of a man 
waiting till he is middle-aged before he commences to 
practise, he gallops through all the sciences he has to 
learn, or makes a coup de main on all the art he has 
to acquire, and begins his profession and his manhood 
together. Should he commence as a doctor and not 
like his calling, he will probably turn to be a lawyer. 
If still dissatisfied, he will possibly try hotel-keeping, 
horse-dealing, or architecture. None of these suiting, 
he will attempt something else. Before he is forty he 
may have been a soldier, captain of a vessel, pro- 
prietor of a theatre, contractor, stone-merchant, and 
pianoforte manufacturer. By the time he attains his 
climacteric he may have exhausted all the professions 
and tried every trade. 

" How big the thing is depends on what we make 
out of it, - " continued Mr. Wilder. " There has not 
been a conjuror in this city for some time, and Fve 
got one. But he'll want a lot of working up." 

Artemus suggested that Mr. Wilder was the very 
man to " work up" a show. 

" Not as it should be done. I have not had enough 
to do with hanky-panky artists. This man has just 
landed from Hong Kong. He has plenty of traps with 
him. Says he is very clever. Has no money. Wants 
some one to bring him out. I am game to try him ; 
but he'll have to be engineered. If I take him, I 
shall want you to make me out some bills and lend a 
hand to start him. We must give him a big name, 
and keep him dark till we are all ready." 



A CONJUROR ON HAND. 345 

We inquired whether the conjuror had any celebrity, 
and by what name he was already known to the 
world. 

" Calls himself Perkins, or Sirnpkins, or something 
like that," replied Mr. Wilder. " Some name that 
don't amount to shucks. We must make a ' Pro- 
fessor' of him. I don't go on any conjuror if he's 
not a professor. Give him some long Greek name 
that no one can understand. He don't know too 
much himself, so you call him what you like and say 
about him what you please. But people like long 
names — regular jaw-breakers. So give him a twister." 

We agreed to assist Mr. Wilder in his speculation 
with the conjuror, but suggested that it would be 
advisable to see the man of mystery first, and have 
some conversation with him before interfering with 
his destinies in California. 

Mr. Wilder informed us confidentially that he 
already had his magician under lock and key over the 
way at the Russ House, and asked us to go over and 
be introduced to him. 

The weird necromancer of the past and the presti- 
digitator of the present are very different sort of 
beings. All the atmosphere of supernatural solemnity 
which enveloped the sorcerer and the cabalist of 
ancient times has dissolved away. The conjuror of 
modern days is as commonplace and unromantic as 
the rest of his fellow men ; sometimes he is a little 
more so. 

We found the newly-arrived conjuror to be a 
pleasant, ruddy-faced, merry-eyed, thick-lipped, talka- 
tive, and dapper little fellow, who had the bearing of 
a man recently from behind a counter in Whitechapel, 
or a desk in Liverpool, rather than a magician who 



346 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

had astonished, as he assured us that he had, the 
Emperor of China at Pekin, Prince Satsuma at Hako- 
dadi, and Indian rajahs innumerable. A few ques- 
tions I addressed to him elicited answers that con- 
vinced me of his having been to Australia, some of 
the Pacific islands, and in Batavia. 

" The Emperor of China gave me this," said he, ex- 
hibiting a ring. " This gold- headed cane is a present 
to me from the brother of the Tycoon. This snuff- 
box was given me by the Queen of Madagascar, and 
Fve sent no end of presents home/' 

We pitied the poor little man's simplicity. All his 
travel had not taught him to distinguish between the 
old birds that are not to be caught with chaff and the 
half-fledged young ones who will peck at anything. 
In my mind's eye I could see him driving a hard 
bargain for the Emperor of China's ring, going back 
three times to the same shop to offer for the brother 
of the Tycoon's walking-stick, and standing meditative 
in front of a pawnbroker's window, enchanted by the 
glamour of the Queen of Madagascar's snuff-box. 

" I am but a child of nature," said Artemus to the 
conjuror, very gravely. " Pardon me for asking the 
question. Did the Queen of Madagascar snuff with you 
when she gave you that box — is she a snuffist ?" 

" That box ! — why that box is an event/' replied the 
conjuror emphatically, with a Cockney accent. " That 
there box pretty well got up a revolution in Madagascar. 
The queen had to get it made for me, and I had no 
time to stop. The native goldsmiths were ordered to 
make it in a day and a night. I 'was a great favourite 
with her majesty, and she wouldn't let me go without 
it. I was dining with her at the palace when her 
goldsmith came to tell her it couldn't be done in time. 



TEE QUEEN OF MADAGASCAR'S SNUFF-BOX. 347 

She's a fine woman with no end of a temper,, and — 
well, I don't mind saying it to you — she was nuts on 
me. So she called her guards, and told them to keep 
the chief goldsmith in charge and see that he got the 
snuff-box ready by eight o'clock in the morning. And 
if it wasn't they were to cut his head off. It wasn't 
ready till nine, and they did cut his head off — fact !" 

" Honest Injun ?" inquired Mr. Wilder, using a 
"Western phrase equivalent to demanding of the nar- 
rator of a story whether he is strictly adhering to the 
truth. 

" 'Pon my solemn word of honour !" replied the con- 
juror. "The people were all very fond of the goldsmith. 
When they knew he had been executed they raised 
an awful bobbery, and I nearly lost my life too. Her 
majesty slipped the snuff-box into my hand, and I had 
to run for it — fact." 

" That man will do," whispered Artemus to me 
aside. " He has that sweet respect for truth which 
most noble conjurors have. If he can force a card 
as well as he can a lie, he's a lovely artist." 

It was decided that the Madagascan magician 
should be brought out. Artemus and I were to con- 
coct the bill for him. It appeared that he had never 
possessed a good startling poster, nor had any well- 
arranged programme. Mr. Wilder believed largely in 
a grand posting-bill. The conjuror had no special titles 
for his tricks, and sanctioned our entitling them as we 
pleased. Mr. Wilder's idea was that the programme 
should have some drollery in it, be preposterous enough 
to set the people talking, and sufficiently wanting in 
intelligibility to confuse the readers and to cause them 
to imagine very much more than they were likely to 
see. 



348 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" There's all my bag of tricks/' said the conjuror. 
" I'm in your hands, gentlemen. There's a mint of 
money in me. I am an artist. It's different with 
me and them there fellows who have never been 
brought up to the profession. Say what you like 
about my experiments, but go it strong on my blood- 
red writing on the arm." 

"The trick of the Spiritualists?" inquired Artemus. 

In reply the conjuror assured us that it was the 
same " experiment " of which the Spiritualists made so 
much mystery, and that he could perform it as well as 
any medium in existence. He asserted that not only 
could he cause names to appear in blood-red letters on 
his arm, but that he could also produce raps, and pick 
out the name of a deceased friend written on a slip of 
paper, rolled up in a pellet and placed among a dozen 
other similar pellets on a table. This last feat of the 
Spiritualists I had seen a " medium " named Forster 
perform in Boston some few months previous. The 
modus operandi had puzzled me exceedingly. Being 
anxious to know how the trick was performed, I 
promised to lend my aid in concocting a poster if 
the conjuror would enlighten me as to the way the 
Spiritualists effected the mystery. 

" I'll do that and I'll show the blood-red writing 
too," promised the conjuror. " It's all hanky-panky, 
every bit of it. Fm as good a Spiritualist as any of 
them. I'll give you a seance to-morrow night — fact." 

" Do you know the trick of rubbing two rabbits into 
one, like Hermann does it ?" inquired Artemus. " I 
want to learn that trick. Teach me, and I'll help you." 

" Know it ? In course I do. Fll learn it you in 
no time. We'll have it at the seance. You shall do 
it yourself — fact." 



RAPPING OUT NAMES. 349 

Spiritualism was in the ascendant at San Francisco. 
The lady with the large teeth who had accompanied me 
on the steamer had given many lectures and become 
popular. Her trick of lecturing seemed to be to calk 
glibly an unintelligible jargon of mysticism, mixed up 
with daring assertions and occasional dashes of the 
sentimental artfully interfused. Plain language she 
ignored. Her Spiritualistic theories were expounded 
in carefully selected words of not less than five sylla- 
bles each. Evidently she composed a lecture in the 
same way that Mr. Wilder wished a poster to be 
written, and regarded the public from the omne 
ignotum pro magmfico point of view. 

The interest the Californian public took in the 
matter of Spiritualism revived in my mind a latent de- 
sire to understand the trickery of the so-called " me- 
diums." I have already alluded to a Mr. Forster of 
Boston, to whom I once or twice paid a visit. One of 
his most astonishing feats was performed in this way. 
Previously to calling at his house I had written on 
two slips of paper the names of relatives some years 
dead, one name on each slip of paper. On ten other 
slips I had written ten other names selected at random, 
and not those of any parties with whom I wished 
to communicate. Each slip of paper was the same 
size, and each I rolled up into a little pea-shaped pellet, 
and I placed the pellets on a table before Mr. Forster. 
Had I tried to pick out the two on which were 
written the names of my dead friends, I could not 
have succeeded, for one pellet in appearance w r as 
precisely like the other. Yet Mr. Forster first passed 
his hands over the pellets, then, using a common 
lead pencil as a small wand, knocked away pellet 
after pellet until on his touching one of them three 



35© THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

loud raps were heard under the table. He paused, 
directed my attention to a card with the alphabet 
printed on it which he had placed on the table before 
me, and desired me to take a pencil and touch with it 
the several letters. When I came to the letter " J " 
three raps sounded under the table. Then I was told 
to go back to the first letter. The " spirits " rapped 
at that. They rapped again when I came to " M/ 
and succeeded in rapping out the name of " James " 
as well as the surname following it which I had written 
on the slip of paper. How came Mr. Forster to know 
that the name written within that pellet was that of 
the dead friend with whom I wished to communicate ? 
That was the question I put to the conjuror when we 
met him on the evening appointed. 

" We will do the experiment. Then I will show 
you the trick/' replied the obliging little fellow. 

Artemus and I produced our pellets. We had pre- 
pared them at the hotel before starting. The name 
that I wished to be rapped out was rapped in due 
order with as much celerity and with equal attendant 
mystery, as if a Spiritualist instead of a conjuror had 
been the operator. But when Artemus experimented 
with his pellets, no raps resulted, and the conjuror 
was unsuccessful. 

" Ah \" he exclaimed, " you have not written the 
name of a dead friend whose spirit you really wished 
to hear from/' 

Artemus replied that he had written the name of 
Captain Kydd, the famous pirate of days gone by, 
adding that he particularly wanted to hear from 
Kydd's spirit, that he might learn where the pirate had 
hidden his booty. 

" There is just where you have made the mistake/' 



LESSONS IN SPIRITUALISM. 351 

said the conjuror. "You have written Captain 
Kydd's name on one slip, the King of the Cannibal 
Islands on another, and Rip Van Winkle on this 
one." 

Artemus laughed, but was fairly puzzled. " How 
do you know what I have written ?" he asked. " You 
have not opened any of them to see, though you have 
got the right names." 

" There's the trick of it. You see I know already 
what's inside the little balls. Now go into the next 
room. Make up six more little balls, and write on 
one of them the name of somebody who is dead, and 
whom you would really like to hear from. We'll try 
the experiment again." 

A fresh set of pellets was placed on the table. The 
conjuror, after a few manoeuvres, commenced knock- 
ing aside with his wand one pellet after another. On 
his touching the fourth one, there were three vigorous 
raps. Artemus was told to take a pencil and go over 
the letters of the alphabet. He did so, and a name 
was rapped out to him in due " spiritual" form. His 
surprise was great. 

" That's the name of an uncle of mine who died 
down in Maine," said he. " It is the very name I 
wrote. I thought it was a likely one, because he was 
given to talking when alive. But what is the old 
man rapping away under the table for ?" 

" Wait, and you shall know all about it. You see 
when you did write the name of one you really desired 
to hear from, the raps came all right. Now here's 
the trick of it. You make up twelve little balls. 
You write a name inside of each. You place all the 
twelve upon the table. There they are. I pass my 
hand over them. There they are still." 



352 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

" I see them/' said Artemus. 

"No, you don't/' asserted the conjuror, with a 
laugh. " For here they are." 

He opened his left hand. There were twelve other 
pellets in the palm of it. 

" Observe my table/' said he. " It has a pattern 
on it. All inlaid wood in squares and stars. Now 
look closely at that little square in the centre. You 
don't see it's a little trap-door, but it is. The pat- 
tern of the table hides where it opens. Now there 
are twelve little balls on the table. I palm these 
other twelve little balls, which I have already pre- 
pared, in my right hand. As I pass my hand over 
the table, I touch this spring. The trap opens. 
Down go the twelve little balls on which you have 
written into the table. The trap closes, and I put 
the other twelve little balls in their place. You think 
they are the same. There, you see, the hand is 
quicker than the eye. First lesson in conjuring — 
fact ! Then I divert your attention while I unroll 
and examine the twelve little balls which have fallen 
through, to find out the name of the spirit you want 
to hear from." 

" But how do you find that out ?" we asked. 

" That's science, not hanky-panky," answered the 
man of mystery. " You see you write on twelve slips, 
and you write twelve names. One name is that of 
somebody you do wish to hear from, and the other 
eleven are nobodies. You think you write all alike, 
but you don't. You are sure to write the name of 
the spirit you want to rap more carefully than all the 
other names. You can't help doing it. Ninety-nine 
people out of a hundred would. I open all the little 
balls, and I run my eyes over them. I see which is 



FOUNDATIONS OF THE NEW TEMPLE. 




In this and the succeeding picture may be seen the progress that had 
been made in the building, of which we have already given a drawing from 
the architect's design, at the time of Artemus Ward's visit. 




The site of the Temple is forty rods square, and contains ten acres. 
The stonemasons give their labour gratuitously. 



BLOOD-BED WRITING. 353 

most carefully written, and I say that's the one. I've 
got a rapping machine in the leg of that table, and I 
make it rap. When you wrote the name of a real 
uncle I could tell you. When you wrote a lot of 
nonsense I couldn't. While you are going over the 
alphabet, I palm the little ball back on the table. If 
I have made any mistake, I soon find it out when 
you go over the alphabet, because if the name is 
Harry, you are sure to hesitate when the pencil comes 
over the letter f H.' You are sure to doit — fact ; 
though you don't know it. And Fve got my eye on 
you/' 

The conjuror's explanation was a great lesson in 
" Spiritualism." I next asked him to elucidate the 
trick of writing on the arm. On the occasion of 
my visit to Mr. Forster when the raps indicated 
the second pellet, he required the " spirit " present 
to write its initials on his bare arm. Mr. Forster 
placed his arm under the table for a moment, then 
raised it in front of a lamp burning on the table, and 
quickly rolled up the sleeve of his coat. The skin 
was without stain or mark. He passed his hand over 
it once or twice, and the initials of the name I had 
written on the second pellet seemed to glow on the 
arm in letters of crimson. 

" It's a trick I do every night. It goes with the 
audience like steam," said the conjuror. u Very 
simple. We'll suppose a name. What name would 
you like ? " 

" Henry Clay," I replied. 

Down went the conjuror's arm under the table. 
In a few seconds he raised it and exposed the bare 
forearm without mark upon it. He doubled up his 
fist tightly so as to bring the muscles of the arm to 

A A 



354 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

the surface, and rubbed the skin smartly with his open 
hand. The letters " H. C." soon appeared upon it in 
well-defined writing of a deep red colour. 

" There you have it, gentlemen — that's the blood- 
red writing. Very simple. All you have to do is to 
take a lucifer-match and write on your arm with the 
wrong end of it. If you moisten the skin with a 
little salt water first, all the better. Then wet the 
palm of the other hand, rub your arm with it. Send 
up the muscles, and the blood-red writing will come 
out. It will fade away again in no time. If you 
look under the table you will see that I have a little 
piece of pointed wood. I can move my arm under 
that and write the letters without using the other 
hand. But that's a fakement which wants practice. 
Lor', how I had the Queen of Madagascar with this 
experiment ! " 

We thanked the conjuror for his elucidations of the 
tricks of the spirit-rappers, and reminded him of his 
promise to enlighten Artemus relative to the feat per- 
formed by Mr. Hermann, who, bringing before the 
audience two white rabbits, contrived apparently by 
simply rubbing them together to blend the two into one. 

" Simple as possible," said the conjuror. " My 
great trick when I played before the Tycoon in Japan. 
First of all we want two rabbits. Bless my heart, Mr. 
Ward, you have one in your waistcoat, and your friend 
has another." 

Cleverly enough the little conjuror succeeded in 
producing a small white rabbit, alive and active, ap- 
parently from within our waistcoats, just as I have 
seen other magicians pretend to extract large potatoes 
from a man's nose. He held the rabbits by the ears 
as he proceeded to illustrate the feat. 



MAKING TWO BABBITS INTO ONE. 355 

"We will use this same table again/' said he. 
" See, I place the rabbits on it. I rub them. I 
touch the spring with my foot. The trap opens, down 
goes one of the rabbits into a little box. Here is the 
other, and I seemed to have rubbed the two into one. 
Lor' bless you ! you can do anything with a well- 
made table. They sell them in Paris with springs 
and traps in them to do any trick. But when a 
magician always uses one, he's only an old bungler. 
See, 1 can do the rabbits again without any table at 
all. But then the hand deceives the eye, and I slip 
one into this little pocket made for the purpose. I 
have a coat fitted up with pockets and spring-hooks. 
Cost me twenty pounds — fact ! That's how I do the 
gold fish and the bowls of water. I don't use any 
Zoroaster's robe — not I. I can do seven bowls — 
fact. Each glass bowl you know has a thick rim to 
it, and an india-rubber covering which stretches over 
and keeps in the water. I hook on three bowls in- 
side the back of my coat, and do two inside each breast. 
Beautiful! gentlemen. Only write me some good 
bills and I'll get the people, you'll see. I'll warm 
them ! I'm an artist, I am !" 

He was a kindly-hearted little conjuror ; we there- 
fore determined to do our best to aid him. Mr. 
Wilder again reminded us of the necessity of inventing 
some high-sounding name. 

u I've got one," said the conjuror ; " a gentleman 
made it for me in Australia. He called me a 
* Basiliconthaumaturgist.' Isn't that grand ?" 

I raised a question relative to the Greek being 
correctly compounded. 

" Don't be hefty on your Greek," interrupted 
Artemus. " It's splendid. It's the very thing. We 

A A 2 



356 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

must have it on a long streamer. Now make out the 
posting-bill and the advertisement/'' 

Here is a copy of the advertisement we issued, 
with the single exception that I have substituted 
another name for that of the conjuror, who, if he be 
still alive, might possibly object to seeing this narra- 
tive in print. His name was not " Juleps." 

The Grand 'Performance of 

PROFESSOR JULEPS, 

The Renowed 
BASILICONTHAIIMATURGIST, 

In his Marvellous, Magical, and Mystical Feats of 

NECROMANCY, 

And terrific and absolutely confounding 

Paradoxes. 



PROFESSOR JULEPS 

Has recently performed in all the chief Cities of 
CHINA, 

JAPAN, 

THIBET, 

COCHIN CHINA, 

SIAM, and 

AUSTRALIA, 
Before 
The Emperor of China at Pekin, 
The Tycoon at Jeddo, 
The Fontai and Toutai of Shanghai, 
Prince Satsnma and suite at Nagasaki, 
The Governors and Princes of Japan at Yokahama, 
The two Kings of Siam at Ofuslo, 
The Grand Llama of Thibet, 
The Khan of Crim Tartary, 
The Mognssnlite of Cochin China, 
The Dyacks of Borneo, 
The King of the Gorillas in Central Africa, 
All the Governors of Australia, 
The Sentries at Alcatraz, San Francisco, 



A CONJUROR'S PROGRAMME. 357 

Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico, at Acapulco, 
Buffalo Jim, the chief of the Pi-Utah Indians, 
Artemus Ward, and the Twelve Bannack Robbers who 

were executed at Bannack City, 
The Select Men of Waterford, Maine, and the 
Presidents of the various Banqueting Halls on the Sta- 
tions East of Bridger. 
The following will be the Great Weird, Wondrous, Basilicon- 
thaumaturgical and Invincibly Incomprehensible 

PROGRAMME : 

Previous to the rise of the curtain, there will be an Enharmonic 
Prolegomena by the Orchestra. 

Mystery No. 1. — The Magic Wove Handkerchiefs of Othello's 
mother. " That handkerchief did an Egyptian to my mother 
give ; there's magic in the web of it." Or the Transposing Tex- 
tile Problem. 

Mystery No. 2. — The Columbian Paradox ; or the Ornitho- 
logical Labyrinth of Perplexity. 

Mystery No. 3. — Pecunious Conversation, or very Dollar-ous 
intimations from articulate silver sybils. 

Mystery No. 4. — The perplexity of a Pomaceous Puzzle, or 
how one apple can be grown to be of the value of twenty dollars 
and made to ripen on a frosty night better than in the laughing 
sunlight of a sunny clime. 

Mystery No. 5. — Christopher Columbus ; our Hat and the 
completeness of repletion, as illustrated by how anything can be 
placed where nothing can go, and nothing can be compressed 
until it becomes something considerable. 

Mystery No. 6. — Plum pudding problematicalities, or a very 
familiar illustration of the applicability of woven textures to the 
construction of coquunterial stoves for the providing of Basili- 
conthaumaturgical Banquets. 

Mystery No. 7. — The great Japanese Papilionaceous puzzle, 
taught the Professor by the principal juggler to the court of 
Prince Satsuma, Japan. 

Mystery No. 8. — The great Abracadabra Secret of Confucius, 
which after having lain dormant for two thousand years, was 
resuscitated in China specially for imparting to Professor 
Juleps. 

Mystery No. 9. — The Chronological and Panistical Inexplica- 
bility, or the intimate association of Watches and Hot Ro\ls. 

Mystery No. 10.— Thomas Zpiwldildethzy, the learned 
traveller, who can travel much faster than the lightning stages 
from Salt Lake to Denver City. 

Mystery No. 11. — How to make Artemus Wards by the 
wholesale, without immaterially co-mingling the co-ordinate 



358 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

tangential forces with the primum mohile, except so far as re- 
gards the sumptuous banquets of the Overland Mail. 

Mystery No. 12. — The great Forster feat of writing on the 
arm in Letters of Blood, or the Incarnadined Chirography. 

Mystery No. 13. — The Calculator which admits of no more 
adding, dividing or multiplying ; being the great mathematical 
puzzle which occasioned the building of the pyramids and the 
short route over the Sierra Nevadas. 

N.B. — The Professor will perform his feats velocius quam 
asparagi coquuntur. 

Prices as usual. 
BABIES IN AEMS TEN DOLLAES EXTRA. 

The intention was to make an unintelligible pro- 
gramme. I believe that we succeeded. As the Pro- 
fessor found it difficult to explain to us what particular 
tricks he would be able to perform, we studied to 
make the enumeration of them as foggy as possible, 
and to use words not readily to be understood by 
everybody. Our Basiliconthaumaturgist appeared at 
the Metropolitan Theatre in San Francisco, and drew 
a large house. His tricks being few and his style 
not according with the tastes of the Calif ornians, his 
career was brief though brilliant. He turned out to 
be an annoying illustration of the story of Franken- 
stein. We had called into being a something which 
haunted us throughout our subsequent journey to 
Salt Lake. Wherever we went the Professor preceded 
or followed, and posted his bills in contiguity with, 
and in some instances covering, those of Artemus. 
Worried by his keeping on our track, Artemus met 
him in one of the mining towns and drew him aside. 

cf Professor," said he, " two Basiliconthaumaturgists 
cannot get on together in one town. If you don't 
keep off my track I shall turn Blood-red writist my- 
self, and do it in my lecture." 

The threat told ; the Professor kept far in the rear : 
but he followed us to the city of the Mormons and 
became conjuror to the prophet — Brigham Young. 



a "dashaway: 9 359 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

IN THE CAPITAL OF CALIFORNIA. 

SAN FRANCISCO was far behind us. We were 
steaming up the Rio Sacramento towards the 
political capital of California. 

A thin-faced, large- nosed, long-haired fellow-pas- 
senger joined us uninvited as we paced the deck 
together. 

" I reckon you air Mr. Ward ?" said he. 

Artemus replied that the interrogator had reckoned 
correctly. 

" I attended your lecture in San Francisco, and I 
must say that some of the things you got off were 
elegant. What's the matter with you is, you've got 
some ideas — mighty good ideas, Mr. Ward." 

Artemus bowed acknowledgments. " Have you 
got any?" he inquired. 

u I reckon I have, Mr. Ward. I'm bursting all 
over with ideas. I am in the same line as you, and 
travel on my lecturing. Now if you and I were to 
jine together, I should just feel about as happy as a 
clam at high water." 

u What are the subjects of your unparalleled dis- 
courses ?" demanded Artemus. 

u I am advocating the good cause, Mr. Ward. I 
am a Dashaway, and I lecture on philosophy 
generally, with its bearings on the Dashaway 
system." 



3 6o THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The "Dashaways" in California are synonymous 
with the teetotallers of England. They have a hall 
in San Francisco and number among their adherents 
a per-centage of the population remarkably large, 
considering the class of persons who peopled the 
Golden Land. Artemus and I noticed the seedy 
appearance of the lecturer. He had the scar of a 
severe cut over his left eye, and walked as though he 
were lame. 

" Have you been a Dashaway long ?" I inquired. 

" Well, I have in my sentiments. My mind was 
organized that way. But, stranger, my second con- 
version was only about nine months ago. I was con- 
verted practically by getting this broken leg." 

" Is breaking your leg good for conversion ?" asked 
Artemus. 

" It was for me" replied our teetotal acquaintance. 
" I had been having a high old time of it up in Sac 
city, where we are going. Coming home at night 
with the cussed whisky in me, I fell into a big hole in 
the road. My leg went snap like a bit of old wood. 
I had to stick in that hole two hours before any one 
came to get me out. My early education came back 
on me, and I knew it was the whisky had done the 
mischief. So I lectured myself mighty hard in that 
hole. Says I to the whisky in a friendly way, ' You 
and I have been fightin' together pretty considerable. 
We've fit it out together for a long time. Whisky, 
you are stronger than I am. I acknowledge it 
honourably, and cave in. We'll shake hands and part ;' 
and I reckon we did." 

The steamer Chrysopolis, bound for Sacramento 
City, left San Francisco at five in the evening. We 
expected to arrive at our destination shortly after mid- 



SEEING QUEEN VICTORIA. 361 

night, a voyage of 127 miles. Suisun Bay had been 
crossed, and in the bright moonlight the peak of Monte 
Diabolo was disappearing from view in the distance 
behind ns when we entered a reach of the Sacramento 
river, where the banks were low and the land on each 
side apparently swampy. 

" I gness the settlers about here grow a fine crop 
of chills and fevers/' remarked a chatty passenger. 
" It's to be hoped they manage to get good whisky 
hereabouts to keep the life in them/' 

Overhearing the remark, the Dashaway lecturer in- 
terposed energetically. (< There you are in the wrong/' 
said he. " Whisky is like greased poison. It slips 
away down easily, and kills while you are looking 
after it. The manufacture of it must be stopped by 
Act of Congress. I reckon, sir, you air a Britisher ?" 
he observed, turning to me. " Well, I wish I were 
your Queen." 

I inquired why he had that wish. 

II These here United States make the greatest 
country on airth," he replied. " There's no getting 
over that fact, as you and I know. But our govern- 
ment wants arranging. We can't get Congress-men 
at Washington to vote down whisky when they make 
their pile by distilling it. That's against human 
nature. But your Queen can do what she likes. It's 
the one good thing about a monarchy when the 
monarch is as good as she is. Now she can say, 
1 Stop the whisky-trade/ and I reckon her soldiers could 
stop it right smart." 

" Why don't you go to Europe and see her on the 
subject ?" suggested Artemus. " Call upon her at the 
Tower of London." 

u If I could get to see her I reckon I'd straighten 



362 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

out her ideas on the whisky-trade," replied the Dash- 
away. " I am going on a trip to Europe soon. If I 
am in London on one of your Queen's reception-days, 
I shall make a call." 

" You would find it a little difficult to get to see 
her/' I remarked. 

The gentleman smiled knowingly, and replied, " I 
reckon there's a way to do it. Her soldiers want 
their hands greased with a few dollars, like our Con- 
gress-men do." 

" There's a better way than that/' said Artemus. 
" You get a letter of introduction from the Mayor of 
Sacramento City to the Mayor of London. Call upon 
the Mayor of London with it. He'll put you in his 
carriage and drive you to the Tower, just as the Queen 
comes in from her walk with the Royal Family." 

Not a doubt seemed to cross the mind of the poor 
man that Artemus was in jest. Well-informed as 
Americans usually are, there are still thousands in the 
"far West" who believe that an English monarch 
now-a-days has the same power that a king of England 
had three hundred years ago. Of Court etiquette 
they know nothing, and some, I presume, imagine 
that Her Majesty takes her breakfast and writes her 
letters wearing her crown upon her head. In hazard- 
ing this opinion, I am, as a matter of course, not re- 
ferring to Americans in general, but only to the less- 
informed of those who inhabit the distant valleys and 
least travelled portions of the country. As a rule, 
Americans know more about Europe than Europeans 
do about America. 

The Chrysopolis steamed up to Sacramento at two 
in the morning. During the early part of the even- 
ing, moonlight had rendered our trip up the river com- 



AT SACRAMENTO. 363 

paratively pleasant, but now the sky was overcast and 
rain was beginning to fall. Sacramento presented any- 
thing but a cheerful aspect as seen from the river. 
Built on a low flat plain, having few lofty edifices, the 
streets being very wide and the river front consisting 
of a series of stores with no architectural pretensions 
whatever, the heart of the Golden Land by no means 
appeared to beat warmly towards us in the darkness 
and drizzle of a November morning. 

A high bank or levee along the river-side shut out 
the lights of the town from view. The lanterns on 
board the steamer were not as numerous or powerful 
as desired. There were other steamboats in the way. 
Every one was anxious to get on shore. Confusion 
was at its height, when a splash in the water, followed 
by a cry from some one in the darkness, warned us 
that an accident had happened. Lanterns were quickly 
held out over the side of the vessel, and some men 
came running down the levee to assist. We soon 
learned what had happened. In his eagerness to get 
on shore the Dashaway lecturer had fallen over- 
board. 

Well- soaked, cold and almost senseless, the poor 
fellow was hauled out of the water and mud, and 
brought up the bank. A minute or two elapsed before 
he spoke. Then, as we stood surveying his condition 
and debating what should be done with him, his lips 
opened, his teeth chattered, and he muttered 
faintly — 

" Whisky — -get me some whisky." 

A bottle was soon forthcoming. The half-drowned 
man took a deep draught. 

Artemus looked at me and remarked with a quaint 
smile — 



364 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

" There '11 be a third conversion — sure \" 

We proceeded to the Orleans hotel, where the Cali- 
fornian senators most do congregate. Though two 
hours after midnight the bar had many gentlemen in 
front of it, and billiard-playing was going on briskly. 

What the city of Sacramento lacks in beauty of 
architecture it makes up for in simplicity of plan. Its 
streets are in straight lines and its houses in square 
blocks ; the ground-plan being in fact an exaggerated 
chess-board. The streets running parallel with the 
river are numbered, not named — those which run at 
right angles take an alphabetical arrangement. "J" 
and " K " streets are the principal ones. I failed to 
discover an "A" street or a " Z." Prudently con- 
sidering that Sacramento would in time expand late- 
rally, the founders of the city began with the middle of 
the alphabet, trusting to prosperity for C to follow D 
and Y to follow X ; whence it results that one side of 
the city augments with alphabetical propriety, while 
the other side goes alphabetically backward as it pro- 
ceeds architecturally forward. The correct side will 
have the better of the arrangement by-and-by, be- 
cause after it has attained to Z it will be able to add 
on a &, but with A there will be finality. Thus are 
those who do rightly always rewarded. 

Sacramento dates back to the year 1839, when Cap- 
tain Sutter claimed the land and built a fort, the ruins 
of which are still to be seen. Unfortunately California 
selected it as the city in which should be held the 
councils of her legislature. In it stands the Californian 
capitol. Around the city is a huge dyke, levee, or 
wall of earth, to prevent the capitol from being washed 
away. Sacramento is situated where the American 
river and the Rio Sacramento meet. When the snow 



TEE STREETS OF SACRAMENTO. 365 

dissolves on the Sierra Nevada mountains the rivers 
overflow, and the city becomes liable to inundations 
that greatly interfere with its prosperity. Even the 
great and learned legislators have had on some occa- 
sions to hire boats and be rowed up " J " street to the 
capitol. 

Bad as its position is with regard to immunity from 
undue cold bathing, Sacramento possesses advantages 
of site which readily suggest themselves to the tra- 
veller. It is at the head of a navigable river, in the 
midst of a fertile country, and an excellent centre of 
travel for either the northern or southern mines, as well 
as a convenient entrepot for their productions. In sum- 
mer the city is not the most agreeable place to dwell 
in. The sun's rays swoop down on the wide streets and 
roads, unshaded by lofty buildings, while clouds of dust, 
set in agitation by any passing vehicle, induce a pas- 
senger to wish the river would be kind enough to over- 
flow in summer as well as in the early spring. There 
is this compensation — that while a visitor has his nos- 
trils filled with dust, his face scorched with the extreme 
heat, and his lips disagreeably dry, he can turn his eyes 
to where the white snow still lingers on the summits 
of the Sierra Nevada, and at the next whisky-shop 
moisten his lips with spirits and iced water, while he 
cools himself in imagination by gazing at the distant 
mountains, their peaks glistening with snowy diadems 
— their sides shady with forests of pines. 

Apropos of whisky-shops, as public bar-rooms are 
familiarly termed in these parts, it occurs to me that 
in Sacramento they constitute about one-fourth of the 
places of business. The streets of the city have 
planked footpaths with awnings projected over them. 
Walk in what direction you will, you cannot go many 



3 66 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

yards in the business part without coming to an open 
doorway with a screen of white or green laths just in- 
side it, giving free access to the shop, but concealing 
from the view of passers-by the gentlemen within. 
From behind these screens the ear will catch the chink 
of glasses and the clang of the metal cup in which the 
bar-keeper is commingling the ingredients of the cock- 
tail, the julep, or the swash. At the bar of the Orleans 
House I believe that the preparation and dispensing of 
drinks go on without intermission, especially when the 
legislature is in session. The first cocktail of the daily 
series being made precisely at daybreak, and the last 
one two minutes before daybreak on the following 
morning. 

Its whisky-shops notwithstanding, the city of Sacra- 
mento is a place of considerable business, and can boast 
the possession of much for which it has just reason to be 
proud. There have been agricultural exhibitions held 
in it worthy of a town ten times its size and thrice its 
age, and it possesses a newspaper — the Sacramento 
Union, which for careful editing and selection of 
news ranks among the best papers in the United 
States. 

Sacramento in its palmier days — fovfuit Ilium may 
be written of it, as well as of a dozen other towns in 
California — possessed three or four theatres. At the 
time of my last visit the Metropolitan was open, but 
the Forrest Theatre, with its marble front, was half in 
ruin, while the old Sacramento Theatre looked like a 
place haunted, shunned, and suggestive of rats, spiders, 
and festoons of dust-laden cobwebs. I had arranged 
with Mr. Maguire in San Francisco, to whom the lease 
of the Metropolitan belonged, that Artemus Ward 
should deliver his lecture in that theatre. On our 



THEATRES OF SACRAMENTO. 367 

arrival the night before its delivery we found the house 
in the possession of a celebrated tragedian who had 
made his living for some time past on the Pacific 
coast by playing Lear and Macbeth when audiences 
were to be obtained,, and poker and faro whenever sim- 
pletons overladen with wealth challenged him to a trial 
of skill or a test of luck. 

The ponderous tragedian seemed to think very 
lightly of the ability of Artemus Ward to draw a good 
house. In this opinion he was seconded by a gentle- 
man with him who was about to appear the week 
following as a dramatic star, and who took particular 
pains to assure us that he was " an artist/' 

As a rule, the actor who endeavours to exalt him- 
self above his associates by offensively declaring him- 
self to be an artist, instead of allowing the public to 
discover that he is one and pronounce accordingly, is 
an impudent fellow, whose art consists in thrusting 
every one else aside and taking the middle of the stage, 
quite regardless of whether that is his place in the 
picture, and caring aothing for Art itself, but all for 
personal vanity. 

" As an artist I must say that I can see no humour 
in Mr. Ward, - " said the dramatic star, addressing me. 
" People are such fools now-a-days that they may 
come to hear him, but from an artistic point of view 
I should say that he would be a fizzle/'' 

" He is a great favourite among actors and actresses/'' 
I replied. 

" But what are actresses and actors ?" rejoined the 
star, contemptuously. " Poor people, I pity them ! 
A lot of sticks. None of them have any love of art/' 

" You have, I perceive, for that is a very fine 
lithograph/' said I, noticing a large portrait of the 



368 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

gentleman, in which he was represented in a defiant 
attitude, his hair brushed back and hanging in slight 
curls behind, his eyebrows knit in a magnificent 
scowl, his head thrown up, and his chin pointing in 
a direct line towards the north star. 

" It is merely for advertising in bar-rooms," replied 
the actor-artist. " It might be better, but those 
draughtsmen never do an artist justice. Do I look 
like that ? Where are my eyes ? Where is my soul — 
my intellect?" 

The question was difficult to answer. Turning 
away, I left the gentleman in the act of reprimanding 
the tradesman in whose place we had met for not 
putting the portrait in a more conspicuous position, so 
as to attract more attention to the great and mar- 
vellous genius that Sacramento had in its midst. 

The Sacramento Union and the Sacramento Bee duly 
informed all the good citizens that Artemus Ward was 
amongst them, and that he was going to lecture. 
Reporters called upon me to ask for facts in his bio- 
graphy, while he himself was "interviewed" at the 
Orleans House by newspaper men, politicians, gentle- 
men anxious to obtain his signature for their collection 
of autographs, and strangers generally, who simply 
called to proffer the courtesy of taking him a drive 
round the town, or of tendering any other little act of 
politeness. Society is not so sociable in many places 
as it is in Sacramento. 

Then came the night of the lecture, when the Metro- 
politan Theatre held an audience whose admission 
money amounted to about six hundred dollars. On 
the following day Artemus and I were in front of the 
theatre during the passing round of a subscription list 
to assist the widow of a play-actor whose dwelling had 



SUBSCRIBING TO A CHARITY. 369 

recently been burnt. The subscription went on briskly ; 
for no class of people are more practically benevolent 
or kindly-hearted than those who follow the profes- 
sion of the stage. Petty animosities, envy, and jealousy 
may disturb the serenity of their minds in the green- 
room ; the use of too small type in the printing of their 
name on the playbill, or the omission of the initial 
letters of their prenomens in the programme, may render 
them furious in the street; but though within them 
there may be a pent-up fountain of gall, there is always 
an ever-flowing river of the milk of human kindness 
when charity invokes their aid, or distress appeals to 
their feelings. 

The company attached to the theatre had subscribed 
liberally according to their means, when at length the 
great " artist" to whom I have alluded, and who also 
chanced to be present, was asked for his subscrip- 
tion. 

" Is this a public affair ?" he inquired. 

"No. Only a private subscription among our- 
selves/'' 

" Very good, no doubt," said the great man. " But 
I object — I object on principle." 

Artemus drew me aside and whispered, " There were 
six hundred dollars in the house last night. How 
much will the expenses be ?" 

"About a hundred," I replied. 

" And there will be five hundred left ?" 

"Yes." 

" Then pay over the odd hundred to this charity 
fund. But don't let them put my name down on the 
list. Let them say, ' Subscribed by a religious 
Indian/" 



B B 



370 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE SHOW IN SIGHT OF THE SIERRA. 

" r I ^AKE your ' Babes ' into the Northern mines 
-L and you'll do well ; but I guess you'll find 
it all poppycock if you try the Southern ones. They've 
all gone up. No spons there — you bet/' was the ad- 
vice of an astute showman in Sacramento. 

As we did not wish to find any " poppycock/' which 
we knew to mean worthlessness, and as we did wish 
to find (i spons/' which we knew to mean money, and 
to be a contraction of the word " spondulics/' we de- 
termined to try the Northern mines. 

Less than four years previous to the present visit I 
had rendered myself familiar with all the mining towns 
of California, and had seen them in the days of their 
prosperity. Returning to them now after the lapse 
of so short a time, I found many of them to be " gone 
up/' " caved in/' and " fizzled out/' as the Californians 
in their own phraseology expressed the defunct condi- 
tion of their once gay and festive Timbuctoo — the 
formerly frolicsome Butte City, and cheerful, unruly 
San Andreas. In England a place goes down when 
the grass begins to grow in its streets. Away in the 
Far West it is said to " go up," and having " gone up," 
to be " caved in." The latter phrase is very expres- 
sive. It takes its origin from the system of mining 
adopted in the country. When the mine is too much 



A RAILWAY IN ITS YOUTH. 371 

hollowed out and rendered too cavernous it " caves in," 
and sometimes buries a dozen or two of the miners in 
a grave of golden earth. 

Twenty- two miles from Sacramento is the little 
town of Folsom. Thither, for sundry reasons, we de- 
termined to go first. Partly because it was a queer 
little place to go to, partly because Artemus had an 
evening to fill up somewhere, and partly because there 
was a railway on which the trip could be made with 
comparative ease. 

That railway was a marvel then ; that same railway 
is a marvel now. People used to smile at it for its 
eccentricities and its unpretending character. People 
may now wonder at it for its grandeur and its im- 
mensity. A few years ago it had its commencement 
in the middle of a road, and its termination in the 
midst of a field. Now, its first rail is laid in Cali- 
fornia and its last in New York ; for it is a part of 
the great iron band which links the shores of the 
Atlantic to the sands of the Pacific* 

A quaint little railway was that Sacramento Valley 
line half a dozen years ago. Its terminus in Sacra- 
mento itself was simply a shed in the middle of the 
street beside the river. No grand building of brick 
or stone, but a few boards, with the iron rails coming 
to an end in the roadway, right in front of the windows 
of the stores. Very handy for the passengers by the 
steam-boats, the wharf being alongside, but very 
dreary on a wet day for passengers waiting to get 
into the train and finding no waiting-rooms on the 



* The Union Pacific Bailway is now connected with the 
Western Pacific line. Travellers leaving San Francisco for New 
York, cross the bay of San Francisco in a steamer and take 
the train at Oakland, Yallejo, or Alameda. 

B B % 



372 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

platform, no cloak-room, and no refreshment buffet. 
The tickets were taken at a whisky-shop called the 
What Cheer, on the corner of K Street, where it was 
possible for the traveller to wait and to shelter himself 
amidst the luggage aucl the tubs of axle-grease. 

After three hours and a half of successful struggling 
along the twenty-two miles of railway, including a 
break-down of the engine at a miserable little station, 
called Salsbury, I arrived at Folsom and made my 
way to the principal hotel ; a wooden building of 
shaky appearance, called the Patterson House. Op- 
posite to it was a roughly-constructed edifice, also of 
wood, which I discovered to be the theatre. I engaged 
it for Artemus. The terms to be ten dollars for the 
evening, to include the oil-lamps. On entering the 
place T found the seats to be of rough, unplaned 
material^ built up one above the other like those of a 
circus at a country fair. 

" Will your man give us a dance ?" asked the indi- 
vidual who showed me the interior of the theatre. 

I replied that dancing formed no part of the lecture. 



I guess, then, he's some as a roarer 



The question puzzled me. I intimated that Artemus 
was not particularly loud-voiced, but that his lecture 
was very humorous. 

" I mean can he sing a bully song V continued the 
custodian of the theatre. 

My answer was that singing was not included in 
the programme. 

" Our people have considerable music in their 
souls/' observed my companion. " You tell your man 
to get inside a good song before he comes up here — 
one with a chorus. Our boys will jine in hand- 
somely. - " 



A SONG WANTED. 373 

After engaging the theatre, it was requisite to call 
at the newspaper office and see the editor. The paper 
was the Folsom Telegraph, and the gentleman to whom 
I introduced myself was Mr. Avelin. 

" You had better sketch out all you want to say/' 
was Mr. Avelin's obliging remark as he tendered me 
paper and pencil. He was in want of copy, and an 
essay on the life and lectures of Artemus Ward was 
charity to him. 

Some one to take the money on the night of the 
lecture, and another person to receive checks, being 
required, I engaged the sub-editor of the Telegraph 
for one, and a clerk from Wells and Fargo' s bank ^for 
the other. The price of admission to the lecture was 
to be a dollar, and the officials in front were to be 
paid two dollars each for their services. My plan of 
operation was to make contracts, sign them, and leave 
copies of them with those with whom they were made, 
for Artemus to pay the amount after the contract had 
been fulfilled. 

Three or four days passed before I met Artemus. I 
asked him how he was received at Folsom, and whether 
the audience were pleased with the lecture. 

" The maniacs stopped me when I was orating 
sublimely, and called upon me to sing," said he. 
" They howled for a song." 

" And did you sing V 

" I had to, or they would have thrown cart-wheels 
at me." 

Knowing that he had no vocal abilities I expressed 
my surprise, and wished to know what song he selected 
for the occasion ? He replied, laughingly — 

" The cheerful lunatics wanted ( Maggie by my 
side/ they pitched the tune, and I joined in with 



374 TB.E GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

them. It was a farce altogether. Put at the bottom 
of the bills No singing allowed, that's a good fellow, 
or I shall have to be a walking opera-house before I 
get through many more mining camps." 

From Folsom I returned to Sacramento, and started 
by the stage-coach at five o'clock next morning for 
Marysville. The weather was unpleasantly cold for 
California, and as the coach bowled over the open 
plain, and I peered out through the window, the snow- 
capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada glistening in the 
early sunlight formed anything but a cheering pros- 
pect. Twelve miles out the coach halted at a wooden 
shanty in the middle of the plains, where, while the 
horses were being changed, I endeavoured to get some 
warm coffee. The owner of the shanty surveyed me 
with disdain, as though he thought me to be some 
luxurious Sybarite fresh from a couch of rose-leaves 
and a banquet of sweets. Instead of coffee he offered 
me a drink of whisky — the inevitable, ever-recurring 
whisky ! I had no inclination to taste it, for the 
odour was of that vile strength that if the horses had 
not been able to pull the coach, the scent of the 
whisky might have assisted. 

We were a mixed party inside the vehicle. Oppo- 
site me sat a sickly-looking woman with an infant in 
her arms. Next to me was a Chinese woman wearing 
the dress of her country and having with her a gigantic 
umbrella. There were two more occupants, one of 
whom was a miner in a state of semi-intoxication, 
although the time was early morning ; the other tra- 
veller had rolled up his head in a blanket, gone to 
sleep, and coiled himself up in a corner. 

Before we had proceeded many miles on our journey, 
the sickly- looking woman with the baby was seized 



GEORGIAN TAXATION. 375 

■with an ague-fit, and I had to hold the infant while 
the poor creature shivered and struggled with her 
malady. The Chinese woman looked on stolidly, 
simply remarking that it was " welly cold/'' The 
miner produced a bottle of spirits, and pressed the 
woman with the ague to take " a long drink," assuring 
her that it was the best remedy in the world for chills 
and fevers. The coach rolled on at a good pace 
through oak-groves and across shallow water-courses 
till we arrived at the village of Nicolaus, where we 
procured some warm milk for the ague patient, again 
changed horses, and were enabled to take a little 
exercise. In remounting, the male passengers selected 
the outside of the coach and left the Chinese female 
and the sick woman, who had recovered from her fit, 
to full possession of the interior. 

No sooner did the fresh air begin to blow upon the 
face of the traveller who had slept during the early 
part of the journey, than he woke up and became 
noisy. He vehemently cursed all lawyers in general, 
and one special lawyer in particular. We learned 
that he had been to Sacramento on legal business, 
and had lost a law-suit. 

" Lawyers are mean cusses," he exclaimed, with 
bitterness. " I'd drown the whole biling of them in 
the Yuba, if I had my way." 

" They are not always smart," remarked the driver. 
" I come from the State of Georgia. Now do you 
know what happened to them down there ?" 

" Did the State pass an act to smother them ?" 
asked the angry traveller. 

" No ; we were not as rough on them as that ; but 
some one introduced a bill to tax all jackasses ten 
dollars a year. One of our legislators moved an 



376 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN 

amendment. He wished lawyers and doetors to be 
put into the same act. Our legislature was in high 
spirits that day, and wanted a little mischief. So, 
when the amendment was put, they carried it, and 
passed the bill. They've tried to rub it out since, but 
they can't do it. We've got it on our Statute-books. 
Just as sure as I'm driving you down to the Yuba, the 
act stands good in old Georgia — all jackasses, lawyers, 
and doctors have to pay up ten dollars a year. It's 
hefty on the lawyers, but it's so," 

Early in the afternoon we arrived at Marysville, 
driving up to the St. Nicholas Hotel. Few towns in 
California have a better appearance than Marysville. 
The streets are wide, the stores good, and the houses 
for the most part built of brick instead of wood, as in 
other cities of the Golden State. I intended to put 
up at the Merchants' Hotel, where I had stopped a few 
years before. When I went to seek it, I found nothing 
but its ruins. The Yuba river had overflowed m the 
middle of the night and washed away the hotel and its 
contents. I asked for one of the former proprietors, 
and received for reply, " Well, he went hard at brandy, 
and it fetched him dead." 

To arrange for the theatre was my first duty. I 
found the house to be neat and clean, fresh painted, 
and the seats covered with red cloth. I ascertained 
that it would hold four hundred dollars, and I obtained 
the use of it for one evening for thirty dollars. I 
had with me an introduction to Judge Lucas. In- 
quiring for his residence, I was directed to an office 
adjacent to a small shop, where, painted on a tin plate 
attached to the door, I read " Lucas, Justice of the 
Peace." The judge's office was furnished in very 
primitive style — a table, a stove, a few law-books, and 



MARYSVILLE AND ITS MAYOR. 377 

an inkstand. Cordial and thoroughly American was 
the manner in which the judge received me. His 
first act of kindness was to take me round and intro- 
duce me to Judge Fowler, Mayor of Marysville and 
agent for the California Stage Company. We fouud 
the mayor seated on a box at the corner of the street, 
cleaning his nails. I saluted him in orthodox fashion, 
and was soon asked to " take a drink/'' Judge Lucas 
then proposed escorting me to visit the proprietors of 
all the principal bar-rooms, and be introduced to them. 
According to his way of thinking, that would be a 
great point gained; but I preferred being first taken 
to see the editors of the Marysville Appeal and of the 
California Express. The Marysville public was a 
reading one, and knew all about Artemus Ward. 
Even the bar-tender at the Magnolia exclaimed enthu- 
siastically, " Fm bound to go my bottom dollar but 
Fll hear that man." 

From Marysville I determined to proceed to Oroville, 
and see what the prospects were for Artemus to visit 
the Rabbit Creek diggings. In making this trip I could 
avail myself of the facilities offered by another queer 
little railway — the California Northern. Like the 
Sacramento Valley line, it was but a fragment of a 
grand scheme — the commencement of an iron road 
destined to connect California with Oregon, and wend 
its way through the solitudes in the shadow of Mount 
Shasta — the Mont Blanc of America of the North 
Pacific, whose snowy peak rises fourteen thousand four 
hundred feet above the level of the sea. 

The California Northern line had its Marysville 
terminus in an open field. The distance to Oroville 
is twenty-seven miles ; but the railway at the period 
of my visit was completed for twenty-two of those 



378 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

miles only, and broke off abruptly in the middle of 
another field, at what was termed Rose's Station. The 
remaining five miles of the journey had to be per- 
formed by means of a stage-coach. I went to the 
railway at half-past six in the morning. Adjacent to 
the rails was a small newly- erected house, one room 
of which was used for an office. In it sat the money- 
taker, ready to receive my three dollars for fare. There 
was no other attendant. One man served for super- 
intendent, money-taker, conductor, policeman, and 
porter. The shareholders had no cause to blame the 
directors for want of economy. There were but five 
passengers, but a fair amount of freight in the way of 
parcels of fish intended for sale to the Chinese at 
Oroville. The fish had been caught in the Rio de las 
Plumas or Feather River. The passengers had to 
wait for the locomotive to get up steam, and the 
morning being chilly, they endeavoured to warm them- 
selves by jumping over the fish parcels and assisting 
in firing up the engine. That engine had been made 
in Philadelphia, taken to pieces, brought to Marysville 
in separate portions, and there put together again. 

The money-taker saw the passengers safely in the 
train, then locked the door of his office and took a 
seat inside the "car." The engine-driver and he 
seemed to be the sole officials of the railway. 

Smoothly enough the little engine dashed across 
Marysville Park, as the partially wooded country 
adjacent to the city is called. Marysville is known 
as the " City of the Buttes," and rising in the middle 
of the plain to our right were the "Buttes" after 
which it is so named. They consist of a range of 
mountains eight miles in length, towering up in 
isolated grandeur, and lofty enough to be visible for 



THE OROVILLE DIGGINGS. 379 

many miles around. Beyond them the snowy Sierra 
extended in gloomy grandeur, far as the eye could see, 
trending northwards to join the Blue Mountains of 
Oregon. 

Cold and hungry I arrived at Rose's Station, where 
the stage was in waiting to convey the passengers to 
Oroville and to breakfast. Fortunately a wood fire 
was blazing in the little shed at the station. For 
refreshments there were whisky, brandy, and apples. 
With pockets apple-laden I took a seat on the coach 
beside the driver for an exciting drive, consisting of 
five miles of bumping over rough ground and heaps of 
gravel, winding in and out among dug-out and deserted 
gold holes, across muddy water-courses and over stumps 
of trees, with shattered windlasses, broken water-sluices, 
and mounds of well-washed earth to make up the 
scenery of the foreground ; while in the distance was 
a long, low, flat mountain, apparently perfectly level 
on the summit, which the driver pointed out as being 
Table Bock. 

Oroville — or Gold Town, as its name implies — was 
one of the first of the surface diggings of California. 
A " surface digging ** being one where the miner has 
but to remove the upper stratum of earth, wash it, and 
pick out his share of gold. In the language of the 
West, the Oroville diggings are now "played out." 
All the gold worth the getting has been extracted, and 
the well-dug soil is now in the possession of the Chi- 
nese, who contrive to earn a living where an American 
would not gain money enough with which to buy his 
" chewing tobacco." 

The hotel at which I stopped was called the St. 
Nicholas. A great saint in these parts is St. Nicholas. 
His name is painted in black letters on a white cloth 



380 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

stretched across tlie roof of the hotel. I asked for the 
theatre, and found that it had been turned into an ar- 
moury. Though the American war was yet young, 
there were old bills on the theatre wall of Pearson and 
Wilder's Panorama of the Rebellion. Among my 

letters of introduction was one to Judge C . 

All lawyers are "judges" in these parts. I went to 
the judge, and found him in his office. He apologized 
for yawning while he read the letters, saying, te I was 
out on a drunk last night." After reading the letter 
he promised all the assistance in his power, and invited 
me to take a cocktail and smoke a cigar. 

With the Judge for my companion I called upon 
Mr. Crosette, the editor of the Weekly Butte Record, 
to whom I had also a letter. We held a consultation 
on the best means of procedure. " There's the Court- 
house," said the editor, " we'll go over and look at it. 
Perhaps that will do for Mr. Ward." 

At the Court-house we find the sheriff of Oroville 
sitting in his office with his feet on the top of the 
stove. The sheriff has been (C out on a drunk - " too, 
and is unwashed and unshaven. He suggests that the 
Brick Church would be better suited for my purpose 
than the Court-house. " If you want to see it," says 
he, "just catch hold of that rope and ring the big 
bell on top of the Court-house till the nigger 
comes." I do so, and am shown across to the 
church. 

Oroville, I was told, had no parson of its own, but 
borrowed one every alternate Sunday from Marysville 
or some other town. The church was neat, clean, and 
held about three hundred people. I bargained for it 
with the school commissioners, and arranged to take it 
for five dollars, which amount it was understood was 



IN A CHINESE STREET. 381 

to pay for the lighting and for the attendance of the 
nigger to open the pews. 

Before leaving Oroville I took a stroll down the 
long street inhabited by the Chinese. Situated in the 
outskirts of the little town, this street consists of two 
rows of wooden, unpainted, dirty houses, most of them 
having red papers, with Chinese characters written on 
them, attached to the door-posts. There are stores for 
supplying all the wants of the Chinese population ; 
barbers' shops, with the tub of water on a four-legged 
stool as a sign outside, while inside are Chinamen 
sitting on high chairs having the top of the head shaved 
and the pigtail dressed. Then there are Chinese gam- 
bling shops, with large tables covered w T ith matting for 
shaking the coins about while gambling; butcher 
shops, with pieces of pork cut as none but Chinese 
butchers would cut them ; and poulterers' shops, with 
fowls split open and pounded out flat ready for frying, 
hanging outside the front. At the end of the street 
is the temple or joss-house, gaily decorated with little 
scarlet flags and glaring inscriptions in gold and scar- 
let. The joss-house is built in a small garden. On 
one side of it is a brick altar with three huge oval 
stones set up on it to represent deities, and a little 
place in front for burning offerings. The priest came 
to the door as I stood gazing at the little structure. 
He was very dirty, and was picking a chicken-bone. 

Returning to Marysville I met Artemus at the rail- 
way station. Seating ourselves on a log we compared 
notes and studied our prospects. 

(( They tell me/' said he, " that if we make a journey 
to Salt Lake at this time of the year, we shall be a 
pair of icicles by the time we arrive among the Mor- 



382 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

I pointed to where the fields of snow on the top of 
the Sierra Nevada mountains gave us a glimpse of the 
sort of scenery through which we would have to pass, 
and suggested a more pleasant and possibly more pro- 
fitable way of spending the winter. Artemus found it 
difficult to make up his mind. He took a twenty- 
dollar gold piece out of his pocket. 

" We'll toss for it/' said he. f< If it comes down 
eagle we'll go to the Mormons." 

The coin came down eagle-side up. Our destiny 
was fixed. We determined to cross the continent and 
call in among the Mormons on our way. 



AMONG GOLD MINES. 383 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



AMONG THE GOLD MINES WITH OUR " BABES.*' 



REAL miners wearing red shirts and real mines 
sparkling with specks of gold. Why not go 
and see them ? 

Question No. 1. — Will the real mines appreciate 
the lecture ? 

Question No. 2. — Will the real miners yield to us a 
portion of their golden ore ? 

My belief was that the miners would be kindly and 
the mines remunerate us for our visit. Poor Artemus 
was afraid of being " steamboated." 

To " steamboat " a show means in the phraseology 
of California to refuse to accept the showman, deride 
his show, and chase him out of the place. 

The towns we had already visited were places where 
there was a settled population subsisting chiefly by 
commerce. We now determined to try the real dig- 
gings, where the processes of mining were still in opera- 
tion. 

Five o' clock in the morning, and I take my seat on 
top of a stage bound for North San Juan (pronounced 
San Hwan). We are four on the top of the coach, 
but Artemus is not with us. After much jolting over 
rough roads, we halt at ten o'clock at the Empire 



384 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Ranch, where we change horses. Though the term 
" ranch " means a farm, it is very commonly applied 
to roadside inns in this part of the world. Presently 
we come to where the road becomes divided into two 
branches. That to the right leads to Nevada — that to 
the left is our road to San Juan. A few more miles 
and we arrive at Live Oak Ranch, beside which is a 
beautiful garden full of vines and flowers, many of the 
latter being in full bloom, though we are travelling in 
the last days of November. 

At Live Oak Ranch a lady is waiting for the coach. 
She has with her a large parcel. She takes her seat 
inside. The parcel is handed up to the roof. There 
is a cloth wrapped round the parcel, but it is very 
loosely wrapped; and as the parcel is of peculiar 
shape our curiosity is excited. One of the passengers 
unrolls a portion of the cloth, and reveals a wooden 
image, representing the upper portion of the figure of 
Liberty. The discovery excites our merriment, for 
the image seems to have been carved for the figure- 
head of some small sailing-vessel, and the lady is re- 
cognised by the driver as the proprietress of a not 
very respectable establishment in a neighbouring town- 
ship. 

The incident reminds me of a report in the Albany 
Argus. 

To foster the cultivation of the fine arts, the United 
States Government admitted statuary to pass through 
the Custom Houses free of duty. According to the 
returns, during the late war the rush of statuary was 
overwhelming, and all the statues took the shape of 
Goddesses of Liberty. At the same time there was a 
great falling off in the importations of pig-lead. Could 
there be any connexion between the two ? How was 



Plate XIV. 



MAIN STREET, SALT LAKE CITY. 




The room in Salt Lake House in which Artemus Ward resided while at 
Utah was that in the white part of the house, under the verandah. 



UPPER PART OF MAIN STREET. 




On the left of the picture is a portion of the enclosure wherein the 
Temple already referred to is being built. The enclosure on the right is 



WATER BY TEE INCE. 385 

it that when Goddesses were in, pigs were ont ? Con- 
gress discovered the secret. Mr. Morrill reported a 
section to the bill prohibiting the importation of lead 
as statuary. Mr. Kernan, of New York, asked why- 
there should be such a prohibition, and was answered 
because lead was imported as statues of Liberty, and 
of Washington and Jefferson. Mr. Morrill stated 
that the statues were imported into New York, and Mr. 
Stevens gave information that the importers were a 
well-known mercantile firm in that city whose names 
he quoted. What became of the statues ? On the 
authority of the Argus the Goddesses were melted down 
into bullets and sold to the Government at double-cost 
for use on the battle-field. 

Our coach has hilly ground to traverse, for we are 
slowly ascending the base of the Sierra Nevada moun- 
tains. Around us are all the characteristics of a 
mining district. We are in the region where free men 
work harder than slaves to find gold. 

We are at the " Diggings/' a most inappropriate 
name for these mines of California. The " Washings " 
would be a much more truthful term, for the miners 
use the hose more than they do the spade, and a ditch 
full of water at a high elevation is more useful to 
them than a hundred pickaxes. All around us are 
exemplifications of the paramount importance of water 
as a mining agent. Deep water-courses artificially 
made run around the sides of high hills, conveying 
water from lakes far away up in mountain recesses. 
Great aqueducts, made of wood and supported on 
trestles, cross the valleys at altitudes of thirty, forty, 
or fifty feet. The miners call the water-courses 
" ditches/' and the aqueducts " flumes." At the post- 
office is the notification, " Water, \%\ cents an inch" 

c c 



3 36 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

How do they measure out an inch of water ? — simply 
by opening a little sluice at the end of the aqueduct 
and fastening on a hose. According to the number of 
square inches in the calibre of that hose the miner has 
to pay ; at the other end of it he will have a metal jet, 
holding which he will advance upon a hill whose sides 
are rich in gold dust, and wash away not those sides 
only, but the entire hill. Froni out of the slime thus 
formed the particles of gold will subside, and be caught 
in the sluices along which the liquid earth has to run. 

Gaily goes our coach over stones and through the 
beds of half-dry creeks, under high flumes and across 
ditches full of rushing, muddy water. We have passed 
through Sweetlands and Sebastopol, arrived at North 
San Juan, and come to a dead stop in front of the 
National Hotel. It is Sunday, but the stores are all 
open, and groups of idlers are smoking cigars on the 
" stoop " in front of the hotel. It scarcely wants a 
month to Christmas, but the sky is blue and cloudless, 
and the day warm and pleasant. 

California mining towns very much resemble each 
other. Let me take North San Juan as a specimen. 

A wide street, with stores on each side mostly built 
of wood, and never more than two stories high ; a few 
brick stores having huge iron doors to them. The 
brick buildings very red, the iron doors very green, 
and the wooden houses very white. A planked road- 
way to the street, with raised planked footpaths. Signs 
hanging out from the various stores ; large livery 
stables ; many drinking saloons. Numerous cigar 
stores open to the street, with no window between that 
and the counter. A few white cottages away beyond 
the stores, and a very tall " Liberty- pole " beyond the 
cottages. Telegraph-posts on one side of the road, and 



« THUS WE CROSS THE YUBA." 387 

high up aloft, crossing the main thoroughfare far above 
the houses and the hotel, a large aqueduct supported 
on trestles, conveying water from the distant moun- 
tains to the gold mines in the rear of the town. 

The signs of the saloons are pretty much the same 
in most of these mining towns. The " Magnolia" is 
sure to be one of them. Then there are the " Sazerac," 
so called from a celebrated brand of brandy, and the 
" Fashion/' so named after the once famous trotting 
mare. 

Peep in at any one of the saloons and you will see 
the characteristics to be a gaudy bar, three or four 
round tables for card-playing, one or two billiard 
tables, a large stove for burning wood, and a group of 
roughly-attired men clustering round it if the weather 
happen to be chilly. The roadway in front of the 
saloon is certain to be strewn with playing-cards that, 
having been once used, are first cast upon the floor 
and then swept into the street. 

On the bright afternoon of the Sunday on which I 
arrive in North San Juan, the landlord of the hotel 
where I stop is playing cards with his guests in the 
office of the hotel. He is a burly man, wears a rough 
white felt hat, a loose jacket, and large boots with his 
trousers tucked into the top of them. He sees that I 
am a showman, makes me welcome, asks me to take a 
drink with him, and as he tosses off his own, remarks 
— " Here's old Biases' toast — Thus we cross the Yuba \" 

I drink (i old Biases' toast/' and proceed to business. 
San Juan has a new theatre built of wood, with a 
circus-like arrangement of the seats. I secure it for 
Artemus at the small cost- of sixteen dollars. The 
rent I pay at once to the proprietors, Messrs. Block 
and Furth, whom I find in a store where they buy 
c c 2 



388 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

gold-dust, and sell coats, boots, shirts, gunpowder, and 
cigars. Then I have to seek the editor of the San 
Juan Press, to whom I have my nsnal introductory 
letter. His name is Judge Stidger. — He's another 
judge. The judge undertakes to devote his newspaper 
to my interests, attend to my business, get out my 
bills, post them, and sell my tickets. Yet the judge 
is a great lawyer. He broke his leg a short time since 
while travelling by the stage, sued the Company, and 
has just recovered 18,000 dollars as damages. Neither 
the accident nor the damages have impaired his agility, 
for when he learns my errand he jumps over the table 
in his office, and exclaims — 

" I am on it, you bet, for Ward's Wax-works ! Will 
he hev his snakes with him ?" 

I explain that he does not travel with a Wax-work 
exhibition, as described in some of his writings, but 
that he is about to lecture on The Babes in the 
Wood. 

" I am on for the Babes too/' says the judge. " But 
tell him to fetch along his Wax-show. We'll give 
him a high old good time of it in this city — vou 
bet." 

Of that " high old good time" more anon. 

The mining towns of California have each their 
Chinese quarter or suburb. At North San Juan the 
Celestials have a little town of their own, shut in with 
wooden walls. It would be more correct to say that 
they have two little towns, one for the tradesmen and 
one for the females. That devoted to the trading 
community forcibly reminded one of an eastern bazaar, 
or one of the special quarters of a Levantine city. It 
is a town within a town — a square patch of China 
removed to the side of the Sierra Nevada mountains, 



CHINA IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 3 3 9 

and stuck down in the midst of a Californian settle- 
ment not twenty years old. 

Adjoining the Chinese shops the Chinese women 
have their nest of houses. A mere glance is sufficient 
to inform the traveller of the social position of these 
women. Sweeping as the assertion may be, I believe 
that I am right in stating that there are no respect- 
able Chinese ladies in California. Large as the 
Chinese population is, and numerous as are the 
Chinese women, there are few if any females among 
them whose moral status is above reproach. Though 
in a land of freedom, though the liberty-pole stands 
in the public square of every township in which they 
live, and though they are sheltered by the wings of 
the American eagle, they are slaves of the basest 
description — held in slavery by the most brutal 
tyranny, and devoted to the vilest life of degradation. 
Whole cargoes of Chinese girls are imported by the 
Chinese merchants for purposes of prostitution. They 
are sent over from China consigned to merchants in 
San Francisco and Sacramento, these merchants being 
in many instances Chinese gentlemen of good position 
and great wealth. An average consignment is said to 
be worth from five to six thousand dollars. The mer- 
chants by whom the women are purchased find habita- 
tions and dresses for them, appoint clerks to receive 
and check their earnings, and treat them precisely as 
though they were a consignment of animals or a stock 
of goods. True it is that the Legislature of California 
has interposed, but not so as to produce any real check 
on the sad traffic. The chief importer is a Chinese named 
Ah Fook, who lives in Jackson Street, and who in his 
time must have imported some thousands of wretched 
girls into San Francisco from various ports of China. 



390 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Passing one of the houses of the Chinese in North 
San Juan, I noticed two men at work preparing the 
dead bones of a disinterred countryman for transmis- 
sion to his native land. As I have stated in a former 
chapter, when a Chinese dies in California, he is 
buried for a time only. In taking him to the grave 
small pieces of perforated white paper are strewn along 
the road and over the place where he is buried. The 
perforations are usually of a diamond shape ; the paper 
is of a peculiar thin texture, and where it falls it is 
allowed to remain. The poorest Celestial strives that his 
skeleton shall at some day be duly returned, polished 
and parcelled, to the home of his fathers in the Flowery 
Land. Among the Chinese are artists who have attained 
to celebrity for their skill in preparing these parcels, 
and in polishing the bones of their dead brethren to 
perfection. " Unusquisque valeat in arte sua." 

In the rear of San Juan are the gold mines. My 
arrangements for Artemus to lecture being concluded, 
I strolled out with Judge Stidger through the chap- 
paral, or shrubby undergrowth which surrounds the 
town, to look down upon the source whence the place 
had drawn its wealth. 

Here is the picture : — A vast hollow fully two square 
miles in extent and three or four hundred feet deep, 
the sides for the most part perpendicular, the earth 
red and gravelly. At the bottom of the immense 
excavation are tramways on which trucks convey 
the golden soil to where it is to be robbed by water- 
power of its hidden treasure. Tunnels driven into 
the sides of the great hollow, and trucks emerging 
from them, laden with auriferous earth. Huge black 
flexible hoses trailing about in all directions like 
gigantic serpents. Great aqueducts supported on 



CROSSING THE YUBA. 391 

trestles. Men working, horses pulling, and the depth of 
the excavations so deep that scarcely a sound reaches 
the ears of those who stand upon the brink looking 
down upon a scene where the grandeur of the work 
accomplished is magnified by the sublimity of the 
natural objects around ; for across the great hollo wed- 
out city, in the bottom of which are huts and houses, 
rise the pine-covered hills and forests of firs, untrodden, 
black, and gloomy, while again beyond them tower up 
the snowy peaks of the Sierra, glistening majestically 
in the last rays of the autumn sun. 

From San Juan my course lay towards Nevada City, 
and Grass Valley. The distance to Nevada is eight 
miles. My fare on the coach top amounted to three 
dollars. The road wound through a forest. We 
crossed a few creeks and then ascended Montezuma 
Hill. Here from the summit was a good view of hills 
beyond hills, and valleys beyond valleys, black with 
pines and firs — a world of trees, glorious in its 
vast expanse and stately silence, the dark foliage 
rendering the view inexpressibly impressive in 
the limitless grandeur of its gloom. On the top of 
Montezuma Hill was a small inn, round the doors of 
which half a dozen suspicious-looking fellows were 
lounging, each having a revolver conspicuous in his 
belt. 

Down the mountain side, over the muddy Yuba, 
across Shelby Flat, and the coach stops in front of the 
Drinking Saloon kept by the far-famed Mr. Biases, 
whose celebrity has arisen partly from the quality of 
his whisky and partly from his being always ready to 
drink the famous toast of his own invention — " Thus 
we cross the Yuba \" Every stranger calling upon 
him has to drink that toast. Not a miner in the 



392 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Northern mines but has " crossed the Yuba " — with a 
glass to his lips. 

On my arrival in Nevada City I found that it had 
just been burnt up for the fourth time. The coach 
drove along through streets where there were no houses, 
but heaps of black and charred ruins. In some places 
there were new walls already going up where the piles 
of burnt timber were still smouldering and smoking. 
The good people had become used to large fires, and 
instead of repining at their loss, were going to work 
bravely to build up another and a better city imme- 
diately. I know of some countries where in the event 
of a town being burnt the ruins would be suffered to 
remain till two or three years of deliberation had 
rendered rebuilding practicable, but in California he 
who procrastinates is lost, and the city which does not 
rise again from its ashes immediately had better never 
attempt to be a city any more. 

Theatre and hotel were both consumed, but the 
citizens were not going to be denied hearing Artemus 
Ward on that account. " We will give him a show in 
the Baptist Church/-' says Mr. Waite, the editor of the 
Nevada Transcript, and within an hour from his so 
saying the Baptist Church was duly engaged, and the 
sum of fifteen dollars paid for its use. The Church was 
full of apples when I went to see it, but the apples 
were to be cleared out and the lecturer accommodated. 
The hotel being a smoking ruin, a private family under- 
took to take Artemus as their guest. I was in doubt 
whether it would be worth while for him to come to a 
city of smouldering embers and streets of ashes. 

" Keep yourself animated on that point/" said my 
guide. " The fire has done us good and put life into 
us. My head's clear. The people are not burnt up. 



BURNT OUT, BUT JOYFUL. 393 

They are still on the track. They haven't been out 
since the fire. Mr. Ward will fetch ; em, and all will 
be elegant." 

Mr. Ward did t( fetch 'em/' as the sequel will 
show. 

From Nevada City to Grass Valley was the next 
stage in the journey. The distance being about four 
miles, and the road a good one ; I sent my baggage on 
by the coach, and decided on a pleasant walk through 
a part of the country where gold-mining takes another 
form than that which it assumes in North San Juan, 
and where the precious metal is found imbedded in 
quartz reefs whence it is extracted in subterranean 
quarries. 

Outside Nevada City were a dozen or two of Indians 
belonging to the Digger tribe. The noble Red man 
differs materially according to the tribe to which he 
belongs. As a Sioux he is tall and graceful ; as a 
Digger he is the squattiest, dirtiest, and most offensive 
form of humanity. He derives his name from his 
habit of delving in the earth after roots and tubers, 
as well as to form a place •wherein to take shelter. In 
intelligence he is a booby — in his instincts a mole. 

The party of Diggers I passed on the road were in 
mourning. Some of their tribe had fallen victims to 
an epidemic, and the decencies of Indian society had 
to be observed. To mourn with propriety it was 
necessary to pierce the pine-trees, obtain a good supply 
of tar, mix that with wood-ashes, and smear the whole 
thickly over the head and face, leaving apertures 
merely for the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. The head 
of each Indian, female as well as male, was enveloped 
in a hard crust of black pitchy composition, nearly an 
inch in thickness. How the mourners were to go out 



394 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of mourning without having recourse to a hammer 
and chisel, I am not able to say. 

Grass Valley is a town, and one of considerable size 
and importance. It takes first-class rank among the 
quartz-mining towns of California. In it are more 
than twenty quartz -crushing mills, constantly em- 
ployed crushing ore, which yields a return of from five 
to twenty-five pounds a ton, and sometimes as high as 
seventy or eighty pounds sterling. 

The queer little town is intimately associated with 
the career of a most eccentric woman. In 1854 the 
celebrated Lola Montez paid it a visit. A rich quartz 
miner fell in love with her. Lola, Countess of Lans- 
feldt, from having been the favourite of a Bavarian 
monarch, became the mistress of a Californian gold 
miner. He was rich but not strong-minded. In a few 
years she succeeded in reducing him to poverty and 
lunacy. I visited the little cottage where they had 
resided, and asked the landlord if he knew anything 
about the fate of the miner who had loved not wisely 
but too well. 

"He was a muggins," was the reply ; " he did what 
all muggins do. When he'd lost all his gold, he took 
a lead pill out of a steel pill-box. - " 

Many were the strange stories I listened to in 
Grass Valley that evening relative to the doings of 
Lola Montez. Poor wayward Lola ! In the city of 
New York I called upon her a few days before she 
died. She who had lived in a palace at Munich, had 
become the occupant of an upstairs back-room in a 
small house; consumption had reft her face of its 
beauty, while it had added to the brilliancy of her 
wondrous eyes. Her couch was a humble one, and 



MURDERERS' CELLS FOR PRIVATE BOXES. 395 

round her room were Scriptural texts written in large, 
legible characters. It is to be hoped that as her 
feverish, burning eyes gazed upon them, the heart of 
the contrite woman derived consolation. 

In Grass Valley I obtained a hall for the use of 
Artemus. Similar good fortune did not attend me in 
every town; for in the next one I visited a billiard- 
room was the only place I could obtain in which the 
lecture could be given. 

At Placerville I was fortunate enough to obtain the 
theatre, and made certain that the lecturer would find 
everything to be comfortable, but on the night he lec- 
tured one of those offensive animals known as the 
skunk (Mephitis mephitica) found its way under the 
boards of the pit, emitted its unbearable odour, and 
caused half the audience to leave the building. 

I arranged for Artemus at Auburn, Drytown, Jack- 
son, Sonora, and other places. At Jackson there was a 
new hall. Some difficulties were at first placed in the 
way of my obtaining it. I had an introduction to the 
sheriff. He took me to see the prison in course of 
erection, and, pointing to a rectangular space around 
which were a series of cells with iron doors, said — 

" Sakes alive, man ! I see how to do it. Let your 
comic man make his speech here. You can have the 
place for nothing. He can stand up on a table in the 
middle. We'll place forms for the people, and there's 
the place for your boxes." 

" Where ?" I asked. 

" Those cells. They are made to put murderers in, 
but they've not been let yet. We can put chairs in 
them, and charge double price." 

Artemus Ward and I had arranged to meet at Au- 



396 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

burn. When we met I asked him how he had suc- 
ceeded at Oroville, and found to my satisfaction that 
the Brick Church there had been crowded. 

" And North San Juan — how did you do there ?" 

He laughed, and hesitated before giving his reply. 
" They had no lecture out of me there/'' said he, 
shaking his head. 

" But why not ? I paid fifteen dollars in advance 
for the hall ; and Judge Stidger was to write you up 
well in his paper." 

" Write me up ! I should think he did. He told the 
noble inhabitants that I was coming with a whole me- 
nagerie of snakes and animals, and half a dozen wag- 
gon-loads of wax figures. When I got into the town 
and found what the people had been led to expect, I 
left by the next stage. Do you think I would have 
stopped? Why, I should have been steam-boated 
first and lynched afterwards." 

" And the burnt-out city — Nevada — did that 
pay?" 

u Here's the money-taker's return. It is just half 
of what I received. The people opened the windows 
and sat on the sills, while others stood in rows round 
the Church, When I came out they all waited to see 
me, and paid up their dollars for standing room. I 
like churches to lecture in, but — if you take another 
one for me — get some footlights to the pulpit." 



EXPLORING SHOWMEN. 397 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

WITH OUR FACES TOWARDS THE MORMONS- 

EITHER Placerville or Hang-town — which you 
please. They call it Hang-town because men 
were hanged there pretty freely in days gone by, and 
Placerville because the name is more euphonious, and 
the place was once famed for its rich placers or surface 
mines. 

At Placerville we were at the foot of the Sierra 
Nevada, and at the starting-point for leaving California 
and ascending to the great plateau whereon is the 
American desert, and where, far away, beyond moun- 
tain ranges and barren tracts, is the home of the 
Mormons, in the fertile valley of Salt Lake. 

Very few were the showmen who had been to Salt 
Lake at the time of our journey. Next to the mis- 
sionary I count the showman to be the greatest pioneer 
of civilization. I once met a man who had been down 
in Patagonia with a magic lantern, and I know a pro- 
fessor of legerdemain who has been in Tartary and 
amongst the Russian Esquimaux of Alaska Territory. 
Minstrel bands with blackened faces have explored 
Australia, and concert-parties have scaled the Andes 
and the Himalayas. The mystery of Central Asia 
will one day be solved by a showman, and a pla 
be found clinging to the shrubs on the other side of 
the Caucasus. 



398 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The few slopsellers who abound at Placerville had 
called my attention to the blankets of uncommon 
thickness and the overshoes of marvellous make they 
had on sale for travellers about to ascend the moun- 
tains. I bought a black felt Vecuna shirt, half an 
inch in thickness, and a pair of mocassins to wear over 
my boots, with straps of buffalo hide and a lining of 
wool. After partaking of a hearty dinner at the Cary 
House, I consigned myself to the mercies of the 
Pioneer Stage Company to be hauled up the moun- 
tains. 

Night came on by the time that the heavy lumber- 
ing coach reached Sportsman's Hall, a miserable little 
hostelry by the road side, thirteen miles on the 
journey. 

And here let me again change the key of this nar- 
rative, and again make use of the historical present as 
the rhetorical form of my description. 

Artemus Ward is left behind to fulfil the engage- 
ments I have made for him in California. He is to 
follow in the course of two or three days. In the 
coach with me are three fellow-passengers; two are 
men of coarse exterior ; the third is a lady with many 
diamonds on her fingers, and much mischief in her eyes. 

Strongly-built and intended for rough usage is the 
Pioneer Company's coach. It is constructed to suit 
the worst of roads and the most daring of drivers. 
In the course of the journey it will have to be pulled 
through mire, bumped over ridges of rock, made to 
roll over blocks of stone, trunks of trees, and slabs of 
ice — to go through the mud like a plough, over the 
snow like a sleigh, and down the mountain side like 
an india-rubber ball. Its form is that of an old- 



COACE GYMNASTICS ON THE SIERRA. 399 

fashioned stage, and its workmanship is the best 
of its kind that a New England workshop can furnish. 

To our coach there are leathern blinds instead of 
glass -windows. Glass would be inconvenient when the 
time arrives for the vehicle to topple over in ascending 
a mountain pass, or descending to the bottom of a 
ravine. Better to have your bruises without any 
cuts; better to travel in darkness than receive light 
through windows which may suddenly be transformed 
into knives. 

A newly-ploughed field would be a level mead in 
comparison with the road along which we travel at 
night. Our coach rolls like a ship becalmed where 
there is a heavy under-swell in the ocean. It pitches 
and tosses like a cockle-boat in a rough sea. It leans 
to one side, and, thinking that we are going over in 
the darkness, we hold our hands to shield the side of 
the face on which we believe that we are going to fall. 
Suddenly the coach rights itself, lurches over on the 
other side, and bang go our heads against the wooden 
bars. We grasp the edge of the seat tightly, the 
coach leaps over a rib of rock, and we are bumped 
upon the hard cushion, as though that were a stone of 
a carriage-way in course of construction, and we the 
rammer in the hands of the paviour. Five minutes 
after we plunge into a deep hole, are knocked upwards 
with a jerk, and butt the roof of the vehicle with the 
crown of the head ; our teeth are jolted in their 
sockets — the tongue is bitten at its tip. Sleep is out 
of the question, when we are in full expectation of 
being in the course of the next ten minutes whirled 
down a precipice, thrown over on a ridge of jagged 
rock, capsized in a muddy slough, or transformed into 
a heap of ruin in the middle of the road. Imagine 



400 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

that you have attached a chain to a water-butt and 
hooked it to a locomotive — that yon have placed the 
water-butt on its side, laid it on a railway, got within 
it, fastened down the lid, and started the steam-engine 
at a speed of sixty miles an hour. You will form a 
mild idea of our midnight journey up the Sierra. 

Twenty-five miles from Placerville we plunge into 
deep snow, and our path becomes more impeded. Just 
before daybreak we arrive at Strawberry Valley, 
where we take breakfast. I remark to one of our 
fellow passengers that we have had rough travelling 
during the night. 

" Not a touch upon what we shall have going down 
the second summit,*'' he replies. " Last time I went 
over I held on with my teeth to the roof for ten 
miles. Swing by your teeth if you can, and keep 
your feet off the floor of the coach. It saves a sight 
of jolting/' 

We change our coach and driver, and start for the 
first summit. There are six horses to pull our Concord 
coach. The driver appears to be a man of nerve ; his 
eyes are keen, his hands large, his shoulders broad, his 
voice deep, his manners rough but cheery. He wears 
a fur coat. His cap has large flaps of fur which come 
down over his neck and ears. 

Upwards, at a brisk pace; — past great blocks of 
granite and of porphyry, past fields of snow and half- 
formed glaciers, past immense pine trees and boulder 
stones of prodigious dimensions — upwards — still up- 
wards, till we have gained the top of the Sierra 
Nevada, and are at the head of Johnson's Pass, 6750 
feet above the sea-level. Behind us is California; 
before us the whole breadth of the American continent, 
across Nevada to Utah, from the Great Salt Lake to 



ON THE SUMMIT OF TEE SIERRA. 401 

the Rocky Mountains, thence to the plains of Colorado, 
across them to the valleys of the Missouri and the 
Mississippi, — again beyond them the prairies, hills, and 
rivers of the West — the hamlets, villages, and cities of 
the populous East. We are ' in a straight line with 
the Capitol at Washington ; but the line happens to 
be more than three thousand miles long. 

There are some sights which once seen are never 
forgotten. The one now before us will hold firmly to 
the memory. It is grander than sunrise on Monte 
Rosa, and more magnificent than the sunset I once 
beheld off Huahine, in the mid-Pacific. — It is morning 
in its earliest beauty as seen from the summit of the 
Sierra. 

Far away below is Lake Bigler, as they called it 
at one time — Lake Tahoe as they call it now; still 
and beautiful, sleeping amidst a forest of pines. Be- 
yond it are the snow peaks of the Second Summit ; 
and over them in rays of rose-colour, amber, and gold, 
stream the glories of the morning sun. Snow-white 
pyramids change into ruby monuments, frosty pinnacles 
become silver spires, icy domes are transformed into 
gigantic opals, iridescent with every tint of crimson, 
green, violet, and gold. Sunrise on the Alps is mag- 
nificent, but sunrise on the Sierra is sublime ; for here 
are the wilder solitudes, and here the grandeur and 
impressiveness of the remote New World far away, 
beyond the centres of civilization. 

We drive at headlong pace down into the happy 
valley in which Lake Tahoe is situated. The lake is 
about forty miles in length and twenty-one in breadth. 
We are told that it contains three varieties of trout, 
and that at the Glenbrook House, where we stop for 
refreshment, fine fish breakfasts are obtainable. 

D D 



4 o2 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

"When we get the Pacific Railroad through/" 
observes the landlord, "we shall have pic-nic parties 
here from New York and Boston." 

I look round at the scenery, glance at the long 
range of snow-covered mountains, then at the calm, 
bright, sparkling lake, and then at the pleasant sites 
for pretty villages far away among the pine-trees. A 
few small churches with tall spires, and a sprinkling of 
white and green chalets are all that are wanted 
to complete the picture. One day they will be there. 
No Californian will then have occasion to travel 
to Switzerland, for Switzerland will be in the Sierra 
Nevada. 

We start for the Second Summit, and see it far off, 
snowy, and golden gleaming in the morning sun. 
Our coach drives through a pine forest where every 
pine is a giant. I learn that pines have been felled 
in this neighbourhood the trunks of which measured 
from eight to nine feet across, at a height of seventy- 
five feet from the ground. There is timber enough in 
this grandly-timbered region to keep all the carpenters 
in California at work sawing and planing for the next 
fifty years. Not pines only, but balsam-firs, red- 
wood, cedars, and white oak. Every tree huge in size 
and noble in conformation. Here in the Sierra is the 
very home of the pine-tree. . It was from these 
mountains, but further south, in Calaveras County, 
that the bark of the great pine was brought, which, 
within the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, was ex- 
hibited as being that of the Mammoth Californian 
Tree. 

One of our passengers has become much excited 
since leaving the Glenbrook House. He seems to 
have received unpleasant news, and drank too 



A MAN FOB BREAKFAST. 403 

pleasant whisky. The lady with the diamond 
rings appears to share in his excitement. He draws 
his revolver, looks at it eagerly, examines its trigger, 
with the muzzle of the barrel uncomfortably pointed 
towards me, and clutching the weapon with a convul- 
sive grasp, exclaims — 

« By ! there will be a man for breakfast to- 
night/' 

I do not comprehend the exact meaning of the 
phrase, but shrink back with fear into the corner of 
the coach. My excited vis-a-vis rolls his head, and 
mutters to himself for fully twenty minutes. His 
female companion urges him to put away the pistol. 
Instead of doing so, he plays with it nervously, and 
yells out — 

" Boys, look out ! By ! I'm on it. There'll 

be a man for breakfast over in Carson City. I tell 
you so — sure." 

The revolver has an ugly appearance. I study the 
probability of there soon being a man dead in the 
coach, should the pistol go off by accident. We come 
to a halt to rest the horses. I get out and beg for a 
seat alongside the driver. 

As we toil upwards towards the snow I tell the 
driver of the eccentricities of the inside passenger. 

" Did he say there would be a man for breakfast in 
Carson ?" 

" Yes, and said it savagely. — Who is he ?" 

" Not a bad fellow ; but he has an ugly kink in his 
brain. He's not to be played with." 

" And the lady in the coach with him. They seem 
to be acquainted. Do you know who she is ?" 

" She ! Wh-e-e-ew ! I reckon I do. She's a 
blazing ruin." 

D D % 



4 o 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

While the driver thus enlightens me, the air blows 
chilly from off the slopes of snow. I prefer being 
chilled as an outside traveller to re-entering the coach, 
there to share the society of " blazing ruins " and men 
with a " kink in the brain." 

Our roadway is narrow. The ravines beside us are 
a quarter of a mile deep. At the bottom of one of 
them I see the fragments of a coach. No wonder 
that they are fragments only ; for, in rolling over down 
the precipitous side of the mountain, that coach must 
have fallen five hundred feet. I ask the driver if 
there were any passengers in it at the time of the 
accident. He replies that there were; that two of 
them were killed and three severely injured. 

" A bad job for the Company, that," says he. 
" Cost them a pile of dollars. The injured people 
brought actions and made small fortunes out of it. 
But that will never happen again if the coachman isn't 
killed too." 

"What preventive have you?" I ask. "As far 
as I see, if it were not for careful driving this coach 
might turn over and roll down." 

" I reckon it might." 

"And I might get my arm broken and sue the 
Company ? " 

" Never in this world — not if / didn't get smashed 
too" says the driver, with emphasis. 

I am puzzled, and desire more explicit informa- 
tion. 

" It would be out of order," is the reply. " If you 
brought law against the Company I should suffer and 
the Company also. You wouldn't be allowed to do it. 
If you were only badly hurt, I should have to knock 
you on the head. Dead men don't bring actions." 



NATURE'S AMPHITHEATRE. 405 

Arrived at the Second Summit we again halt. The 
scene is the grandest I have beheld for many a day. 

There may be bathos in making the comparison, 
but the idea is one which suggests itself on the spot. 
I am standing at one end of the uppermost row of the 
highest gallery of a theatre. The theatre is of horse- 
shoe shape, the walls are granite, the roof is the open 
sky; and, from where I stand, down to where I see 
the top of a tree in the middle of the pit, must be at 
least two thousand feet. Where the tiers of boxes 
should be, slopes down in winding curves the road by 
which we have to descend. Instead of arabesque work, 
the front of the boxes is ornamented with pine trees, 
some of them a hundred feet in height. Around the 
uppermost tier is a cornice of glittering snow. Look- 
ing across the Titanic theatre, whose walls upreared 
themselves in primeval time — across the stupendous 
pit, the floor of which has scarcely been trodden by 
the foot of man — Nevada appears upon the stage in 
scenery more impressive, more dreary, and yet more 
wondrous than ever painter's hand painted, or scenic 
artist devised. Far as the eye can see is one broad 
expanse of brown, arid, treeless, cheerless, solemn 
desolation — a series of volcanic-looking hills, of a 
burnt, dusky hue, apparently devoid of all vegetation, 
and looking as though never watered by the rain of 
heaven, the bright blue sky above them only enhancing 
their dreariness, and the white snow in the foreground 
lending force and colour to their gloom. 

We have to descend from the gallery to the stage. 
We shall accomplish the descent driving at a rapid 
pace. Should our coach turn over we should be hurled 
down to destruction. Should we roll to the depths 
below no one would take the trouble to find our grave. 



4 o6 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

To our left as we descend is a wall of rock crowned 
with an inaccessible coping of snow ; to our right is an 
almost perpendicular precipice, the base of which is an 
untrodden ravine. At the angles of the road, where 
it curves upon itself, are wide, hollowed-out recesses 
for a vehicle ascending the mountain to wait the 
passing of a descending one. 

The hind wheels of the coach are locked. We glide 
down at a rapid rate. There is peril enough to cause 
silence, and danger sufficient to make the traveller 
cling to the coach with nervous grip. 

Half-way down we are startled by the report of a 
pistol. Our passenger with a " kink in his brain " is 
nourishing his revolver out of the coach-window and 
pointing it towards where behind the mountains Carson 
City awaits the " man for breakfast/'' 

The " grade " down which we are descending is a 
toll road, and is the property of the Pioneer Stage 
Company. Over the same mountains that road tra- 
verses, but farther to the south, the Pacific Railway 
conveys its passengers at the time when these pages go 
to press. 

We are at the bottom of the descent — have driven 
round the mountain — have passed some corn-fields and 
some cabbage-gardens, to find which fringing the 
dreary wilderness excites our surprise, and we stop at 
the St. Charles's Hotel, in Carson City. 

California, with its golden soil, is on the other side 
of the Sierra. We are now in Silver Land, 



CARSON CITY. 407 



CHAPTER XXX. 

THE SHOW IN SILVER-LAND. 

" AJ EVADA is the first child of California/' to use 
1 ^ the phrase of Mr. Bowles, of Massachusetts. 
The child was born with a silver spoon in its mouth, 
for nearly the whole State is one vast silver-mine. 
When first explored by miners in 1859, ^ was ca U e d 
Washoe. Then it was known as the territory of 
Nevada, and now it has become a State of the Union. 
The soil of Nevada is literally manured with un- 
coined dollars. In the first six years of her being 
known to the w r orld she yielded sixty millions of those 
dollars for coinage. At the time I write these lines 
she forms a prominent topic of the London Stock 
Exchange, and twenty-two of her silver mines are 
advertised as let on leases at rentals amounting to 
52,000/. which, with royalties, are calculated to yield to 
a company a yearly income of nearly 70,000/. The 
gloomy-looking land w r e saw from the summit of the 
Sierra is probably the richest silver region in the 
world. Once it belonged to Utah of the Mormons. 
Now it has an existence of its own, and Carson City 
is its capital. 

A wild place is Carson. As uncouth and semi- 
civilized as in old time was the famous hunter and 
trapper Kit Carson, from whom it takes its name. 



4 o8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

We look at the straggling, half-built city from out 
the windows of our hotel after a good night's rest. 
We see that it is at the base of the Sierra, that the 
mountains rise behind it, that dreary plains extend 
around it, but it is laid out in squares, that its houses 
are nearly all built of wood, and that its streets are 
lively with coaches, waggons, and drays. 

For breakfast there are eggs and bacon, hot cakes 
and molasses, good coffee and some apples. Though 
we are on the outskirts of the American wilderness 
there is a morning paper. It is brought in damp from 
the press. 

I unfold the Carson Daily Independent, wondering 
what matter the Editor can find for news. The first 
paragraph that attracts my attention informs me that 
the Genoa coach, which I had seen on the First 
Summit, turned over yesterday descending the Kings- 
bury Grade, and to use the expression of the writer — 
" killed the turnovers." 

Paragraph No. 2 in the Carson paper, is headed " A 
Man for Breakfast/ 3 I read that, late last night, a 
man was shot dead in one of the drinking saloons of 
the city. On inquiry I find that the murderer is my 
coach companion with the " kink in his brain ; " that 
the affair is thought to be nothing more than an ordi- 
nary occurrence, and that paragraphs recording such 
little events are usually headed — u A man for break- 
fast/'' Possibly the good citizens value such a stimu- 
lant with their morning meal. 

Carson City as I see it contains about four 
thousand inhabitants. It has a theatre, but no 
church; though there is a small brick one nearly 
finished. 

I intend that Artemus Ward shall lecture in Carson 



TEE THEATRE IN CARSON. 409 

City, and I go to the theatre to make arrangements. 
I find it to be an ill-built, dirty, wooden structure; 
the auditorium consisting of a pit with raised seats, 
and the chief entrance being through a very forbidding- 
looking drinking bar, in which, early in the morning as 
it is, many men are lounging, some drinking, some 
smoking, and some playing cards. They are roughly 
clad, and wear large slouching wide-awake hats. Be- 
side the door leading from the bar into the theatre 
proper is a painted notice — 



On inquiry I find that the notice is intended to 
warn those who have spent all their money in the 
drinking saloon that they cannot go into the theatre 
without additional payment. 

I ask for the proprietor. I am told that he is u a 
genius," that his name is <e Dr. Schemmerhorn,'" and 
that he originally came from the City of Baltimore. 

The doctor presents himself. He is a tall, gaunt, 
large-limbed man. He wears a red shirt and a broad 
slouch hat, but is without coat or waistcoat. I easily 
arrange for the use of the theatre, and after a preli- 
minary chat, I ask Dr. Schemmerhorn how he came to 
leave Baltimore to live in Carson. His answer is — 

" I have lived in these d — d mountains, and the 
Bocky Mountains, and all other d — d mountains for 
the last eighteen years." 

He himself is a curiosity. So is his theatre. I 
ask him where he gets his actors from. 

" Make them here, and write my own pieces," is his 
reply. 

" What sort of pieces V 3 I ask, wondering whether 



4 io TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

high comedy or heavy tragedy is most appreciated in 
Carson. 

" My last was The Tempest at Sea" replies the 
doctor. " It was a bully piece, and went well with 
the boys. One of my actors — a new one — had to be 
in a storm. There was to be thunder and lightning — 
they like plenty of that here — and he had to say, ' let 
it come/ When he did say it, I had all ready. Out 
went the lights, and down came a tub with forty 
gallons of water right on top of him. He was sitting 
in a chair with a bunch of fire-crackers tied underneath 
it. We let them off as soon as the water was down. 
Never had such an effect in any piece before ; but my 
actor swears he'll never go on the stage again. — What 
are you going to do this afternoon ? We've got a 
rooster-pulling match on. Come and see it." 

I promise to accept the invitation. But business 
has to be attended to first. The editor of the news- 
paper must be called upon. They tell me he is a 
major. I discover him in his office, and arrange to 
advertise " four squares four times " for the sum of 
twenty dollars. A iC square" being as many lines of 
type as will be equal to the breadth of the advertise- 
ment. Then I engage two printers to take checks at 
two dollars each, and the keeper of the post-office to 
take money ; for which he is to receive five dollars. I 
find him to be a very intelligent man, and I remark in 
a complimentary manner, that I presume he will one 
day hold a much higher position in the commonwealth. 
He replies — 

" My brains are in a muss. If I had education to 
contract my brains, and had a delivery, I'd make a 
speaker." 

In the afternoon I saunter outside the town to see 



ROOSTER-PULLING. 4 ' i 

the "rooster- pulling ;" not knowing what kind of an 
entertainment I am destined to witness. That the 
inhabitants of Carson City are not given to elegant 
frivolities I am quite prepared to expect ; but that 
they should indulge in any such villanous sport as 
that to which I am treated, is matter for sincere re- 
gret. f 

A ' ' rooster " is the American term for the male 
bird among poultry. Many roosters have been pro- 
vided for the match — fine strong fowls. Each compe- 
titor seats himself on a log of wood with his feet 
against a board. He first deposits a dollar, and then 
takes one of the roosters, places it between his legs 
with its head downwards, and seizing the feet of the 
poor fowl, pulls with full force. If he succeed in 
pulling the legs of the rooster clean off he will win the 
bird ; if not he will lose the dollar. Few succeed in 
the attempt. I notice that the fowls, though subjected 
to such severe torture, do not make any noise, and I 
ask Dr. Schemmerhorn the reason. 

" They can't," answers the doctor. " They are too 
much absorbed." 

I conclude that eighteen years of life in the moun- 
tains is not favourable to fine feeling ; and am not 
sorry when the time arrives for me to re-mount 
another coach and start for Virginia City. 

Seventeen miles across the Silver Land. As we 
leave Carson the coach rolls through deep, sandy soil, 
and on each side is a sandy plain devoid of verdure, 
but spotted as far as the eye can see with the grey and 
hideous sage-brush. 

Oh, that sage-brush ! How many tens of thousands 
of acres of it were Artemus and I destined to see in 
crossing the American continent. How we got to 



4 i2 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

detest its gnarled, stunted, tiresome ubiquity ! How 
we came to hate its all-pervading aromatic odour ! In 
the American desert it is the very emblem of sterility 
— of cheerless tracts, want of water, and intensified 
dreariness. Its dull grey colour becomes wearisome to 
the eye, and its camphor-like fragrance detestable to 
the nostrils. Botanists call it Artemisia tridentata. I 
remember a miner calling it " demon's garden-stuff." 

As we bowl over the sandy plain we see smoke 
ascending in the distance, and are informed that it 
proceeds from camps of Washoe Indians. Before us 
is a ridge of reddish- brown hills. We drive towards 
them over what seems to be blocks of broken lava. 
Everywhere around are indications of igneous origin 
in the rocks. 

We pass the hills, and in passing see the openings 
of tunnels in them, with piles of bluish earth heaped 
up at the mouth of every tunnel. Into those tunnels 
men have gone in search of silver. Here miners do 
the work of rabbits, and these are their huge warrens. 

Down we plunge into a valley, through which runs 
a small stream. The few wooden houses away to our 
right constitute Empire City ; the long street of 
wooden houses and large sheds through which we pass 
is called Silver City. We enter a magnificent ravine, 
the sides of which are formed of grey mountains, 
almost perpendicular, and we come to a toll-bar, the 
name of which is " The Devil's Gate." We drive 
through it up a steep hill, past barren mountains with 
rounded sides and jagged summits — past wooden huts 
— past great mills keeping up a continuous roar as the 
steam-driven stampers within them crush with the 
noise of thunder the silver ore — past mounds of blue 
earth, full of the material out of which dollars and 



'MIDST SILVER ORE. 413 

half-crowns are made — past heavy masses of machinery 
and piles of timber, till Mount Davidson rises in full 
view, and we toil up Gold Hill to find ourselves in 
Virginia City, 7827 feet above the level of the sea. 

You know how high up you are in the world after 
you have spent a day in Virginia City, for the eleva- 
tion is so great that the rarefied air tells immediately 
upon the lungs of a traveller not accustomed to the 
region. The city is built on the side of the mountain, 
and, from a distance, seems clinging on to it. Above 
it as well as on a level with it are the mouths of the 
tunnels leading to the great silver mines. A thousand 
five hundred feet above the city is the summit of 
Mount Davidson. 

The coach drives along C Street, and stops at the 
International Hotel, the proprietor of which is a Mr. 
Winn. The booking-clerk is entitled Dr. May. I 
arrange for a bedroom, and then purchase ten " meal 
tickets " for five dollars, for such is the mode of doing 
business at an hotel in Silver Land. 

From the windows of the hotel, high up in the bed- 
room allotted to me, I can see across the twenty-six 
miles of desert I shall have to traverse in the next 
stage of my journey towards the Mormons. Away in 
the distance I can almost discern the " Sink " of the 
Carson, where that peculiar river becomes lost in the 
desert. I can see from my position in civilization the 
land where the Indian roams and where barrenness 
extends in plains covered with bitter alkali. 

Rambling through the city I find the main streets 
to be built one tier above the other, and the cross 
streets to be steep hills. Any one familiar with the 
town of Dartmouth, in Devonshire, can readily form 
an idea of the ground plan of Virginia City. In the 



4 i4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

course of my ramble I pass the entrance to the famous 
Gould and Curry Mine, on the celebrated Comstock 
Ledge. This grand ledge of silver ore runs along the 
side of the mountain above the town for nearly three 
miles. In width it varies from fifty to one hundred 
feet. How far deep it extends into the bowels of the 
earth no human being knows. 

Here I am where every man who is at all rich is a 
centipede. He possesses a hundred " feet " in one or 
many mining claims. On the streets, in the hotel, go 
where you may, the talk everywhere is concerning 
"feet." The whole business part of the city is one 
great mining Stock Exchange. Every store-keeper can 
tell you the value of a foot in every mine in this part 
of Silver Land. 

Many and rich are the " feet " of the Gould and 
Curry. The mine is twelve hundred feet in length on 
the surface of the ledge. It has been delved to a depth 
of eight hundred feet. Then there are any number of 
cross excavations. More than five millions of cubic 
feet have been excavated at the time of my visit. The 
mine has two miles of tunnels and subterranean pas- 
sages, and there is more timber within it than there 
is in all the structures of the busy city outside. I 
am told that it has produced over eleven millions of 
dollars worth of silver ore, and paid nearly four 
millions of dollars in dividends. I ask in return who 
is Gould and who is Curry ? 

"As to Mr. Gould," says my informant, "he never 
got more silver out of it than a barrel for a pistol. 
Curry is pretty well off. He speculated in building 
the territorial prison, and is the owner of it now." 

It is the old, old story of he who originates an 
enterprise. I next inquire after Mr. Comstock, whose 



SILVER BRICKS. 415 

name the great ledge of silver bears, and who mnst 
assuredly be a man of immense wealth. 

" Hasn't got a dollar," is the response. u Com- 
stock is only a poor bummer. You may find him 
loafing in the saloons of Carson City." 

In Melbourne, Australia, I have seen Mr. Fawkner, 
the founder of the colony of Victoria, sitting in his 
fitting place in the Parliament House. Things are 
otherwise with the pioneers of Nevada. I ask who 
first bought up the land from the Mormon settlers in 
1859, and am answered — " Proctor, the Sayers, 
Phillips, Green, Goodrich, Abraham Curry, and Corn- 
stock." Curry, landlord as he is of the stone prison, 
appears to be the best off of the whole party. From 
having been an explorer of silver he has become the 
custodian of crime. 

Two days of rambling among the mines of Virginia 
City yield me notes enough for a volume. Here I see 
one of the two precious metals in the place of its na- 
tivity. I see it reft from the arms of Mother Earth, 
cradled by machinery, and brought up to brightness 
by the fall of the stamper, the revolution of the iron 
washing-pan, and the fire of the furnace. 

For miles out of the city, on the road by which we 
entered it, are a succession of mills, each fitted up 
with huge, ponderous, iron-shod stampers. Thump ! 
— thump ! — thud ! — thud ! they go unceasingly day 
and night, Sunday as well as week-day, so long as 
there is ore to be pulverized and silver to be beaten 
out. Marvellous is the magnitude of the operations, 
wonderful the enterprise, and astounding the industry. 
Every piece of timber in those great mills has been 
brought miles over hills and valleys; every massive 
iron casting and cumbrous engine has been hauled 



4 i6 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

over the summit of the Sierra Nevada. Nothing is 
too difficult to daunt the energy of the lusty miners 
around us, who have speckled the mountains with 
heaps of blue earth, and rendered cavernous the hills 
with subterranean streets paved with silver, and in 
some localities glittering with gold. 

" What are they throwing into those waggons ?" I 
ask. 

" Bricks," is the reply. 

They are very white and shining bricks, and I go 
nearer to look at them. I find them to be great 
ingots of silver tossed into the waggon just as labourers 
would toss bricks of clay, or as a carter would throw 
Dutch cheeses to a cheesemonger. 

Artemus Ward rejoins me in Virginia City. He 
has given his lecture at Carson, and found Dr. Schem- 
merhorn's friends to be as rough as I have intimated 
to him by letter it would be his fate to find 
them. 

Here, nearly at the top of a mountain in Silver 
Land, the lecture is delivered at the Opera House, 
another of the buildings owned by spirited Mr. 
Maguire, of San Francisco, who has kindly given us 
the use of the building merely for the cost of lighting 
and warming it. It holds nine hundred dollars, even 
at the low price of admission we have to charge — one 
dollar to the dress circle and orchestra seats, and 
fifty cents (2s.) to the parquette or pit. In front of 
the outside of the building is a gallery for the brass 
band requisite to play in the people. Next door is a 
stable with a hay-yard attached. 

I ask about the people who perform at the Opera 
House, and find that they consist of occasional per- 
formers sent over from California by Mr. Maguire. I 



THE GREAT SALT LAKE. 




The length of the Salt Lake is nearly 70 miles, and its breadth from 30 
to 35 miles. It is about 18 miles from the principal city of Utah. 



ROCKS, GREAT SALT LAKE. 




This Dead Sea of the West receives fresh water from the Bear River, 
the Weber, and the Jordan ; yet its water contains six and a half times 



AN OPERA HOUSE IN THE DESERT. 417 

inquire after them as the " artistes " of the theatre. 
My informant, who is a wag attached to one of the 
newspapers, calls them the " opera-ators." And why 
not, if " opera " is derived from opus ? 

A strange Opera House is this one in Virginia City. 
I peep out at its back windows and see the desert. 
The Indian in his furs and feathers can look from his 
hiding-place in the distance, wonder why the lights 
are bright in these windows, and then why they be- 
come dim. He knows not that Amina is crossing the 
plank j and the music of Sonnambula is a mystery to 
him. 

Here, in Virginia City, we meet the Governor of 
the Territory, Mr. Nye, and listen to him address the 
people. He is followed in his speech by a red-headed, 
light-bearded, foaming-hot politician, who bears the 
name of Bill Stewart, and of whom we hear the remark 
made — " If Heaven gives up the poor miner hell be 
turned over to Bill Stewart." 

One city of silver has a population of twelve 
thousand. It also has three daily papers, two of 
which are published in the morning and one in the 
evening. Yet five years antecedent to our visit there 
was only a pony path over this mountain side, where 
now are streets filled with noisy throngs. 

At the office of one of the morning papers — 
The Territorial Enterprise, Artemus meets with Mr. 
Samuel L. Clemens, one of its editors, who is destined 
to distinguish himself in American literature as Mark 
Twain, the author of the Jumping Frog. At the time 
of our being in Virginia City, Mr. Mark Twain's 
brother, Mr. Orion Clemens, is Secretary of the 
Territory. 

The sides of Mount Davidson must ache wi f1 

E E 



4 i8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

laughter , for Virginia City is continuously gay and 
festive. As we ramble through it in the evening 
we find innumerable dance-houses wherein miners in 
their red shirts are dancing to the music of hurdy- 
gurdys played by itinerant maidens. At SutclifiVs 
Melodeon a ball is taking place, and at the Niagara 
Concert Hall there are crowds assembled round the 
door, while from within come forth the sounds of 
negro minstrelsy, with the clack of bones and the 
twang of banjos. 

Artemus spends his spare time with Mark Twain, 
descending silver mines and visiting the strange places 
of the city. I drive around the neighbourhood and 
make arrangements for lectures at Gold Hill, Silver 
City, and Dayton. Christmas Day arrives. There is 
turkey for dinner, but no plum pudding. After 
dinner, thinking of Christmas spent elsewhere, and 
feeling moody, I put a bottle of champagne in my 
pocket, take a stout stick in my hand, and climb to 
the summit of Mount Davidson. With Nevada at 
my feet, Utah in the distance, and behind me the 
snows of the Sierra Nevada extending south to where 
in the unseen distance is Mexico, and north to where, 
beyond vision, are the wilds of Oregon, I drink 
" Merry Christmas \" to friends who are far away. 



EOW NOT TO BE SCALPED. 4 '9 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

OF UTAH. 

" A "^ chance of being scalped ?" 
■**» " Not if you wear your hair long behind." 

" But that would give the brave Indian better hold." 

"Take my advice. Keep your hair long, and no 
Indian will hurt you. All the Indians around Utah 
have an understanding with Brigham Young. Not 
one of them will touch a Mormon. They'll take you 
for Mormons if you have long hair. It's a good pass- 
port — you bet !" 

Such is the conversation we have in Virginia City 
with a gentleman who knows Salt Lake and its 
people. Artemus and I take the advice, and do not 
visit a barber as we were about to do. That Indians 
are on the path we are going is almost a certainty, 
and that they are not gentle-spirited and sympathetic 
ones is evidenced by the fact that a station has recently 
been attacked by them, and that two white men have 
been scalped and tomahawked. 

At the booking-office in Virginia City of the 
Overland Mail Company, owned by Messrs. Wells, 
Fargo, and Co., we purchase our tickets entitling us to 
be conveyed via Salt Lake City to Atchison, in 
Kansas, on the Missouri River. Our route is to be 

E E % 



420 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

through Austin to the capital of the Mormons, a dis- 
tance of about four hundred miles ; and thence over 
the Rocky Mountains by Bridgets Pass, across the 
Laramie Plains, by the Cache la Poudre River, along 
the Cherokee trail into the valley of the Platte, then 
through Colorado and Nebraska over the great plains 
to the Missouri, a further journey of about twelve 
hundred and fifty miles. 

We are travelling in the year 1863. By the time 
the world is half-a-dozen years older there will cer- 
tainly be one direct line of railway across the wilder- 
ness we are about to traverse, and there will be at 
least two other lines in process of construction. The 
line destined to be first opened will be the Union 
Pacific, and will proceed along the Valley of the 
Platte. The next will be the Kansas Pacific Line, 
which will run from Kansas City by the valley of the 
Kansas River to the City of Denver, in Colorado ; the 
third railway will be an extension of the Mississippi 
and Lake Superior line to Fort Abercrombie, on the 
Red River, whence it will take its course to the Upper 
Missouri, and pass through Dacotah.* Another twenty 
years, and the trail of the Indian will be the street of 
a city, the scent of the sage-brush will have given 
place to the odour of new-mown hay, and the wilder- 
ness will literally " blossom like the rose." 

What seems to be so odd in our enterprise is, that 
we are going into the desert with a show. We are 
not missionaries starting forth to convert heathen 



* This third railway to the Pacific is already in progress. 
Messrs. J. Cook and Clark, the American bankers, have under- 
taken to furnish five million dollars for its construction. — 
December, 1869. 



OFF TO THE INDIANS. 421 

Indians, nor geographical explorers intent on investi- 
gating the physical features of the country. Artemus 
Ward is travelling with a comic lecture, which he is 
about to take into the land of the coyote wolf, elk, 
antelope, and buffalo ; and I am Sancho Panza to my 
American Don Quixote. It seems to me like Punch 
and Judy being taken into the African Sahara ; only 
that Punch would there be uncomfortably warm, and 
we have the clearest prospect of being most miserably 
cold. 

As for the Indians we are about to see and to meet, 
we are quite well aware that we are not to shake harids 
with any of the chivalrous, amiable, and romantic 
gentlemen who figure in the pages of Mr. Fenimore 
Cooper. We have already seen the wretched Digger 
Indians of California, and we have looked on some 
very unsavoury specimens of the Washoe tribe in 
Carson City. We have now to pass through the 
country of the Snakes or Shoshonees, then through 
that of the Utes. We are likely to meet with the 
Pey Utes, who confine themselves to fish diet, and the 
Gosh Utes, who are not anglers, and who prefer a few 
lizards and grasshoppers roasted with roots for their 
morning and evening meals. Then, when we have 
crossed the Rocky Mountains, and seen the waters of 
the Platte, we shall make the acquaintance of the 
warriors and the huntsmen of the Sioux. 

We are notified that our drivers along the road will 
be armed, and are advised that we had better have 
revolvers in readiness. Artemus buys one in Virginia 
City. He buys a case for it also. Throughout our 
ride to Salt Lake, except on one occasion, he pro- 
vokingly keeps the weapon in its case unloaded, and 
locking the case, never remembers into which of his 



422 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

pockets lie has put the key. That pistol is useful for 
sudden emergencies. 

For extra clothing we each purchase a pair of thick 
coarse blankets, with straps to bind them round the 
body. Our hats are of fur, and drawn down over the 
ears ; our gloves and the lining to our mocassins are 
of fur also. In addition, Artemus purchases a buffalo 
robe of ample size to wrap round us when sleeping in 
the coach at night, and to throw over us in the open 
sleigh when gliding down snowy mountains by moon- 
light, with the thermometer a dozen degrees below 
fre'ezing point. 

Friends who know the road warn us that we shall 
probably be in want of wholesome refreshment. To 
obviate any difficulty in that way, we purchase a large 
ham and have it boiled. To this we add half-a-dozen 
roast chickens, a bag of biscuits, another bag filled 
with coffee, a pot to boil the coffee in, and a lantern 
to light us when riding at night. 

Our coach looks anything but a comfortable vehicle. 
It is lightly built, though doubtless very strong. Its 
form is that of a van. We enter it from behind. 
There is a seat along each side, and a framed roof, 
covered with leather. It has no windows, but in place 
of them, leather curtains which admit of being rolled 
up whenever we want more air and light, and which, 
though intended to button close to the framework, 
have an unpleasant trick of flying open at the cor- 
ners and letting in cold blasts of air upon us just as 
we are falling off to sleep. There are one hundred 
and seventy-five miles of desert, hill, and plain to be 
traversed in this uncomfortable vehicle before we arrive 
at any town or village ; for there is no mining settle- 



DOWN TO TEE DESERT. 423 

ment between Virginia City and Austin, on the other 
side of Reese River, in the Toyabe Mountains. 

Lyrical chronicles tell of a celebrated cobbler who 
" lived in a stall/' and who found it to serve the pur- 
pose of kitchen, parlour, and every other description 
of apartment. Would that we were of the cobbler's 
contented disposition ! for in the coach now waiting 
for us we have to ride and live, and sit and sleep, for 
the next two days. In it we are to be taken across 
the desert, jolted over the rocks, pulled through the 
sand, and dragged up the mountains. There are four 
strong little Mexican horses to pull us ; and the pas- 
sengers for Austin consist of a ruddy- faced jocose 
farmer from Sacramento, a Jew gold-dealer from San 
Francisco, Artemus Ward, and myself. 

A dozen good friends assemble to see us start. One 
kindly fellow makes us a present of a demijohn of 
whisky ; another gives us some scrip entitling each of 
us to twenty feet in a silver mine somewhere in the 
rear of Mount Davidson ; another brings an offering of 
a pouch full of tobacco ; and a fourth insists on Artemus 
accepting an old bowie-knife, wammjtejLtoJhaxeJdlled 
two men, and to" be as useful for carving our ham 
as for a weapon of self-defence. Mr. Mark Twain 
gives us the latest copy of the Territorial Enterprise, 
and Mr. Dan de Quille of the same paper contributes 
some hard-boiled eggs. 

Our road is down the side of the mountain. "Good- 
bye \" — " Hurrah \" — " Whoo-roo-roo-roo-rooh V s and 
away we spin, holding on to the coach with one hand, 
and waving our travelling caps with the other. We 
start at eight o'clock in the morning. The air is cold 
and clear, the road dusty and rough. 



i 



4 2 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Through sand and sage-brush, across desert plains, 
and over a seemingly endless expanse of white alkaline 
dust, till at six in the evening we stop to dine at 
Cottonwood Station, forty-five miles from Virginia 
City, and not far from the sink of the Carson, where 
that odd river, like its equally odd neighbour the 
Humboldt, loses itself in the earth, disappearing in 
what in this part of the world is called a " sink." 

At ten in the evening we cross the Carson River by 
a wooden bridge, and at midnight arrive at Stillwater 
Station. The night is cold, and the keepers of the 
station sulky. We want hot coffee for supper, and 
find that the best way to get it without loss of time is 
to go out, cut some cottonwood and greasewood, and 
light up a fire ourselves, while the horses are being 
changed^ and a new driver is getting himself thoroughly 
awake for his journey. 

Brightly shines the moon and frosty is the air as 
we again resume our seats in the coach. Artemus 
tries to sleep, and with that intent uses the bag of 
coffee for a pillow. The coach plunges down into the 
bed of a creek, Artemus rolls into the straw provided 
for keeping our feet warm, and the coffee-bag falls on 
top of him. 

After that adventure no more attempts at sleep. 
Our nerves are not yet used to this kind of travelling. 
By-and-by we shall be more inured to it, and able to 
slumber soundly whether jolting over ruts or bumping 
over stones. 

Hark ! is that the cry of hostile Indians ? We 
listen, and learn from our fellow-travellers that the 
noise is one made by coyotes or prairie -wolves, who 
are howling at us as we drive along, and who if they 
dared would attack our horses. An unpleasant animal 



AMONG THE COYOTES. 425 

is the coyote. He is described to us as having tho 7 
form of a dog, the voracity of a wolf, the cunning of 
the fox, and the manners of a jackal. 

While we are listening to the coyotes, and are being 
told by our friend from Sacramento that it is always 
as well to have your name and address engraved upon 
the handle of your jack-knife, so that if your bones 
are picked clean by the coyotes, a stranger finding 
your skeleton with your jack-knife beside it may 
know who you are and where you lived, we are startled 
by a wild yell — 

" Cush ! — cush ! — cush ! — cush-oo-oo-00 V* 

The cry seems human, but it is like the screech of a 
madman. A minute passes before we recognise it as 
proceeding from our own driver, and intended to warn 
the men at Mountain Wells Station that the coach 
is coming, and that the horses will have to be changed. 

At daybreak we stop at Fairview. By eleven 
o'clock on the morning of the second day of our ride 
we make Westgate Station, 115 miles from Virginia 
City. It consists of a rudely-constructed dwelling of 
one story, built of rubble masonry. Around it are 
great dreary mountains. In the distance is a hilly 
range covered with snow. At Westgate we take a 
hurried breakfast of fried bacon and coffee. Our 
appetite is fierce. Artemus thinks that if he had a 
coyote cooked he could eat even that. 

Thence on to Cold Springs; then to Brewster's 
Ranch for supper ; and on to New Pass, where we halt 
at midnight. 

The station is composed of four walls, inside which 
is a hut for the keepers, and stables for the horses. A 
pair of huge wooden gates are thrown open to admit 
the coach, and are closed quickly when we get inside. 



426 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Looking round, we notice that some old nmskets are 
placed in a position where they could be readily made 
available. Other signs of precaution attract our 
attention, and we ask the reason. 

" An Indian got killed here a few days ago for 
stealing. His tribe have threatened us with an 
attack/-' 

" When do you expect it ?" 

" Perhaps to-night. If you like, gentlemen, you 
can stay and jine us in the fight. We've got guns 
enough. The more hands we have, the better stand 
we shall make against the sons of [lady-dogs]." 

Artemus looks at me, and draws a circle with his 
forefinger round the top of his head. I ask him if 
he knows anything of the nature of the road on which 
we have to travel for the next thirty miles of our 
journey, and explain to him that having studied the 
map I know that we have to pass through a canyon, 
where, if attacked, we shall have no chance of escape. 
I suggest that we had better stay where we are till 
morning, and that if Indians come we can fire at them 
better behind walls than if we have to fight them from 
the coach. The driver settles the matter by preferring 
to have four fleet horses in front of him to any walls 
of brick or stone. 

We leave the station, the gates are closed rapidly 
behind us/ and we dash into the gloomy canyon. Each 
of us holds his revolver with a tight grip. Even 
Artemus has found the key of his, and the Jewish 
gentleman travelling with us has loaded it for him, 
but forbidden him to touch the trigger unless called 
upon to do so, lest in his nervousness he should shoot 
one of us in the coach. We sit listening in the dark- 
ness. Presently the driver cries out — 



IN THE SHOSHONEE NATION. 427 

" Quick ! Hand me a pistol V* 

We do so. He fires it. The echoes of the report 
roll up the canyon. 

" Keep cool, Mr. Ward. Don't fire till you see a 
savage right before you/'' advises our brave Hebrew 
friend. 

The driver pulls up the horses, returns the borrowed 
pistol, and remarks — 

" I saw his eyes, and I shot him in the forehead 
clean between them." 

" An Indian ?" 

u No ; a wolf. The thieving beast was following 
us. He scented your cold ham, Mr. Ward." 

Freezingly chilly is the wind that blows around 
Mount Airy, and welcome is the bright wood fire we 
find at Jacobsville. We cross Reese River by a wooden 
bridge, and driving past some huts and stores, wind up 
a steep hill into Austin. Again we are among silver 
mines, and hear the heavy thump of the ore-crushing 
machines, and see tunnels in the mountains, and heaps 
of silver- laden soil at the tunnel's mouth. 

Austin, at the time we visit it, is only one year 
old. Built along a ravine between steep mountains, 
it is a place of many marvels. Its mines are rich in 
silver ; its stores are stocked with goods ; it has a French 
restaurant, any number of bar-rooms, and — a daily 
paper ! — the Reese River Reveille. Yet Austin is 
nearly two hundred miles from anywhere westward; 
has no acquaintance with any town to the south ; has 
nothing to the north nearer than the mining camps of 
Idaho, and no connexion with anywhere to the east 
except Salt Lake City, four hundred miles away. 

There never has been a show given in Austin, and 
Artemus determines that he will be the first on its list 



428 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of showmen. A Court House has just been erected, 
built on piles by the side of a hill. A flight of wooden 
steps leads up to the justice-room, and a group of 
Shoshonee Indians are lolling against the piles be- 
neath it. We make the acquaintance of Judge 
Brownson. The judge is willing that we shall have 
the use of the Court House, but suggests that as it is 
not strongly built, if too large an audience be gathered 
together in it, it might break down and roll to the 
bottom of the hill. He advises us to take " Hol- 
brook's New Granite Store." The proprietor grants 
the use of it ; and we announce in the Reese River 
Reveille that the Babes in the Wood will be given as 
" The Pioneer Lecture in the Shoshonee Nation/' 
That we are among the Shoshonees is without doubt, 
for there, in front of the International Hotel, a real 
Shoshonee is cutting firewood. He wears an un- 
curried sheepskin for a covering, but is using a bright 
saw which not long since came out of a store in Boston. 

The International Hotel is where we live. It is a 
peculiar institution, and makes no pretensions to rival 
the hotels of London, Paris, or New York. In front 
of it is an apartment which serves as bar-room, coach- 
office, parlour, drawing-room, and general rendezvous. 
Behind that is the dining-room, with rough planks for 
a table, and hardened mud for a floor. Beside and 
behind the dining-room, are the sleeping apartments, 
where the guests are stowed away for the night; not 
in beds, but in wooden bunks, built one above another 
in wine -rack fashion. The floor of each dormitory is 
earth, the walls wood and canvas. 

We determine to stop a week in Austin, that 
Artemus may lecture there, investigate its wonders, 
and prepare for the long ride to Salt Lake City. We 



JUDGE'S CHAMBERS IN AUSTIN. 429 

fall in with two miners who were the first to come 
here a twelvemonth ago. By name ; they are Mr. 
J. B. Marshall and Mr. George Peoples. Both have 
once been showmen. They enter into the spirit of 
our enterprise with enthusiastic alacrity, and under- 
take the distribution of our handbills among the miners 
at the adjacent camps. I engage a Shoshonee Indian 
to accompany them and distribute bills also. Con- 
ciliated with a glass of whisky, he allows one of the 
bills to be pinned to his sheepskin. Thereupon Artemus 
becomes struck with a bright idea. 

"When we do onr show in New York," says he, 
" we'll have a dozen Indians to deliver bills. We'll 
arm them with tomahawks, and give them umbrellas 
to carry." 

New Year's Eve arrives while we loiter in Austin. 
Judge Brownson invites us to spend it with him at his 
chambers. We find the " chambers" in a field in the 
rear of the main street. They are built of logs, have 
a mud floor, are furnished with a couch, a table, half 
a dozen stools, two law books, and a dozen empty 
bottles. The judge provides some lager bier for re- 
freshment, and we are joined by another judge, whose 
name is Crane, and a Colonel whose name is Williams. 
Pleasantly the evening passes, many are the jokes and 
quaint the stories. Late at night we sing " Auld 
Lang Syne " in chorus, the judge playing an accom- 
paniment on the flute. 

" There was a deal of music in that flute once," ob- 
serves the judge. " But it's a drunken old engine 
now. A kind of faithful in its ways, though. The 
more lager bier I drink, the drunker that old flute gets." 
On New Year's Day, 1864, we wish to follow out 
the American custom of paying complimentary visits 



430 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

to the ladies. Unfortunately Austin has few of the 
fair sex for inhabitants, and they are mostly engaged 
in business. So, after two or three calls, we accom- 
pany Mr. Marshall to see the Pioneer Mill, and here 
in the course of half an hour we learn many facts 
about a silver mill. We ascertain that it cost 75,000 
dollars; that the freight bill for bringing the materials 
of it to the spot amounted to 25,000 dollars ; that the 
roof made in Carson City cost 363 dollars ; and that the 
haulage of it to Austin involved an expense of 1980 
dollars. We are told that one stamp crushes a ton 
of silver ore in 24 hours : that the charge for crushing 
a ton is 75 dollars, including amalgamating and re- 
torting ; that the furnace is made of fire-stone procured 
in the neighbourhood; that the price of wood is twelve 
dollars " sl cord f and that a pound of mercury from 
the Almaden mines of California can be had for a 
dollar. Then we ask the cost of provisions, and find 
that the bread we eat at Austin is made from flour sup- 
plied by the Mormons at Salt Lake City, and that its 
cost is twenty dollars per hundredweight, or forty 
dollars a barrel ; that potatoes are twenty cents a pound, 
beef or mutton twenty-five cents, and pork fifty cents, 
or in English money about two shillings. So much for 
statistics of Silver Land. 

Wandering about Austin we make the acquaintance 
of a man who has two dogs, and who propounds a queer 
theory regarding them. The dogs have been his con- 
stant companions for some years of a roving life, and 
he himself has at one time been a telegraph clerk. We 
notice him waving his arm systematically to one of 
the dogs, and the animal seems to understand the 
movements. We are told that the man " has a craze " 



LOG-TELEGRAPHY. 431 

about understanding the language of dogs, and we get 
him to converse on the subject. 

" My dogs talk as plainly as you do/' says he. "All 
dogs have a language. It only wants studying out. 
Here I take my knife and tap twice on this table ; then 
I tap twice, pause half a second, and tap again. Now 
I tap two sharp taps, pause and give two more quick 
taps. If you were a telegraph clerk you would be able 
to read off those taps just as plainly as I am speaking. 
A sound, and time between the sounds, is all that's 
wanted to make the alphabet. It's just the same with 
a dog. When he says l Bow V that's his tap. When he 
says ' Bow-wow !' that's his two taps ; and when he says 

' Bow-wow wow ! ' that's his two taps, pause and 

tap again. That's dog language, and it only wants to 
be studied out. When you hear the instrument going 
in a telegraph office you don't know what it's saying, 
because you haven't given your mind to the subject ; 
and when you hear a dog barking you are just as 
much in the dark. But I've studied them, and I'm 
getting at their code — I'm getting their code fast." 

" But what has the waving of your arm to do with 
it ?" we asked. 

"That answers to the movement of the dog's tail. 
His tail's a needle. Do you know how the letters are 
made in a needle telegraph? It's just the same with 
the wag of a dog's tail as it is with the needle." 

" Then a dog can talk at both ends ?" observes 
Artemus. 

" Of course he can," replies the dog man. u One 
wag to the left and one to the right may mean c A ' 
with the telegraph. It means something else with the 
wag of a dog's tail. But there's a code for it just the 



432 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

same. Dogs are sensible beings, so are all animals. 
We shall know the language of all of them some day/'' 

" Dog-Latin is known already," remarks one of our 
party as we compliment the owner of the dogs on his 
discovery, and watch some of his experiments in hold- 
ing telegraphic conversation with the animals. 

When the time arrives for Artemus to lecture, we 
find that the plasterers have scarcely finished the walls 
of the store in which the lecture is to be delivered. 
There is no time to have the floor washed, and there 
are no seats nor lamps. The latter we soon procure, 
but the seats are more difficult to improvise. We 
borrow chairs from the hotel and restaurants, and the 
friendly miners assist us in procuring some timber 
and empty barrels, out of which we make temporary 
forms. Artemus walks across the road from the hotel 
to the lecture-room bearing a lighted lamp before him, 
and many of the audience are thoughtful enough to 
bring chairs with them from their homes. The lecturer 
is received with shouts of laughter. When it is over 
a dance is proposed, and Austin determines to have a 
night of jubilation. 

Twelve miles from Austin is a small mining camp, 
called Big Creek. Artemus is solicited to lecture 
there. Though the inhabitants are not more than 
three hundred, a good house is promised, for all are 
guaranteed to attend. We drive over to Big Creek, 
and Artemus lectures in a large bar-room, with a huge 
wood fire blazing at one end of it, a floor of bare 
earth, a roof of dried sage-brush, and walls of rough 
pine. Some candies are stuck to the posts which 
support the roof. Artemus stands on a chair behind 
one end of the bar to lecture, while at the other end 
of the bar the keeper of it, with his shirt-sleeves rolled 



A CLASSICAL CIGAR- SELLER. 433 

up, is busy selling beer and slicing loaves. Whenever 
Artemus pauses, and the audience applaud, the bar- 
keeper yells out, " Bully boys — bully V and once 
becoming over-excited, he exclaims : " That's Artemus 
Ward from New England. Listen to him ! Ain't he 
sweet ? Ain't he h — 1 1" 

On the 5th of January we leave Austin for Salt 
Lake. Before quitting the most genial community 
we have found in the course of our trip, we hold a 
merry meeting, and bid many farewells. Artemus 
perversely insists on having his boots blacked, though 
we are going to travel in the wilderness, and the 
ground is covered with snow. It is not easy to find 
a boot-black, and the freak costs fifty cents. 

Next to the hotel is a cigar-shop, kept by an enthu- 
siastic and educated young German. Whenever I have 
dropped in during my stay in Austin, I have found 
the cigar-seller studying Virgil or reading German 
poetry. We become on friendly terms. As Artemus 
and I take our seats in the coach, the German brings 
cigars to each of us, and begs me to accept his card. I 
have it before me as I write — " S. M. Ehrlich, Austin, 
R. R. N. T." On it the " classical cuss/' as Artemus 
called him, has written — " Nostra amicitia sempiterna 
sit." We shall not be troubled with Latin again for 
some time, for the Indians are not learned, and the 
Mormons are not scholastic. 

Our start is at midnight ; at seven in the morning 
we arrive at Dry Creek Station and take breakfast. 
Thence we go on to Grubb's Well ; then to Robert's 
Creek; and then to Sulphur Springs. Here we change 
our driver. Mr. Ilodge, who has driven us the last 
fourteen miles, has driven us to distraction as well as 
to Sulphur Springs, by blowing a bugle during the 

p ? 



434 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

whole journey, knowing only one tune, and that very 
imperfectly. Our new coachman, who announces 
himself as being " Frank Jordan from Maine/'' is a 
most acceptable driver. We know that the road be- 
fore us at night is a rough one ; a whisky -loving 
driver would increase its danger, but when some 
spirit is offered to Mr. Frank Jordan, he declines it 
indignantly, saying, " I don't drink ; I wont drink ; 
and I don't like to see anybody else drink. I'm of 
the opinion of these mountains — keep your top cool. 
They've got snow, and I've got brains ; that's all the 
difference." 

We arrive at Diamond Springs, and change our 
Concord coach for an open sleigh. Diamond Moun- 
tain is before us, coated with glistening snow. The 
ascent to it is gradual, but when we have gained the 
summit we have to sleigh down on the steepest side. 
To assist us in the operation our driver takes two men 
up the mountain with him. When we have made the 
ascent, we are cautioned about how we are to behave 
in descending. 

The sleigh is nothing more than a wide, shallow, 
open box, mounted on runners all round it, and 
fastened co the framework of the runners projects an 
outrigger, consisting of a small plank platform, on 
which our conductors stand, and shift themselves 
quickly from side to side to balance the sleigh. The 
mules are harnessed " wide ;" that is, they are attached 
to the ends of a long bar, which keeps them at least 
six feet apart. The mail-bags have been placed at 
the bottom of the sleigh, on top of them have been 
laid our travelling bags and small store of provisions. 
There are four of us in the sleigh ; we are directed to 
lie down at full length, wedge ourselves close together, 



SLEIGHING AT MIDNIGHT. 435 

and not to roll out if we can help it, because the snow 
is frozen and the icy spiculae would be likely to pierce 
the skin if we and the snow were to come in contact. 
We cover ourselves up with our blankets and buffalo 
rugs, leaving just enough space in the covering through 
which to see the moon shining coldly splendid in a 
sky of intense blackness. A guide runs down the 
mountain with some lanterns and a long pole. He 
feels for where the snow makes the best roadway, and 
places the lanterns down in the depth below us to in- 
dicate the route. The driver stands in front of the 
sleigh, yells to his horses, the men on the outriggers 
balance the sleigh, and away we glide down, down, 
down over fields of snow. Though we are extended 
full length face uppermost, we are every now and then 
almost vertical with the zenith. 

From Jacob's Well to Fort Ruby, and thence to 
Mountain Springs. Sixteen miles more driving brings 
us to Butte Station, and another sixteen to Egan. 
Our pace is about seven miles an hour. At Egan, 
on a dung-heap beside the station, are squatted 
five or six Gosh-Ute Indians, cleaning some freshly- 
procured skins. More dirty, offensive, repulsive speci- 
mens of humanity it has not been our lot to see 
during the journey. 

Egan is left behind, and we are spinning along 
with fresh horses towards Schell Creek. The road is 
slightly hilly, the ground hard with frost ; for two 
nights we have had no sleep ; the excitement has been 
too great even to admit of our dozing in the coach. 
Artemus is overcome with fatigue, and expresses his 
delight when he perceives that Schell Creek Station is 
large and commodious. 

" Let us stop here to-night, and go on by the next 

P F 2 



436 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

coach to-morrow/' says he. " Bat when shall we get 
into Mormon territory ?"- 

" We've been in Utah for the last seven miles/' re- 
plies the driver. " The people who keep this station 
are saints. Very good sort of saints too — bully ones I" 



THE URIM AND THUMMIN. 437 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

SAFE IN SALT LAKE CITY. 

" -j T will be done by the Urim and the Thummin." 
X "And not by a knowledge of Hebrew and Greek ?" 

" No : that would be an uninspired translation, 
and no better than the one you have/' answers 
Mr. Walter Davis, telegraph operator and Mormon 
" saint " of Schell Creek. " The Bible will be trans- 
lated by the Urim and Thummim some day. Then 
all America will be of our faith/' 

" No doubt it will be/' remarks Artemus. " But is 
your head clear about how the translator will go to 
work ? Will the Urim read off the Hebrew, and the 
Thummim write it down in English?" 

" It will be like looking through a divining-stone," 
explains Mr. Walter Davis, rather foggily. 

I observe to Mr. Davis that the Urim and 
Thummim were oracles having to do with the breast- 
plate of the Jewish high-priest, and that the breast- 
plate is probably irretrievably lost. 

" It will be found," says Mr. Davis, solemnly. 
" President Young knows where it is. Our President 
has had many revelations which he has never disclosed." 

" Plenty of wives to everybody was one of them — 
was it not?" suggests Artemus. 

" Not to everybody/' replies Mr. Davis. " I have 



43S THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

but one wife. I have never been commanded to take 
another. When my faith is stronger I may take one 
more if the Church desire it." 

Mrs. Davis listens to her husband in silence, 
seemingly quite willing that his faith should remain at 
its present strength, or become strong enough for the 
Church to require an additional wife to share it with 
her. She has a pale, wan look, and an air of thorough 
resignation. 

Hospitable as the Arab of the old world's deserts 
are these Mormon settlers in the desert of the New 
World. The keeper of the station, Mr. Newton Dun- 
yon, has gone to Salt Lake City to select a wife. In 
his absence Mr. Davis acts as deputy. There are 
seven other people at the station. Schell Creek is a 
place of workshops belonging to the Overland Mail 
Company — a place where broken-down coaches are re- 
paired, mules doctored, and harness mended. Its 
buildings are arranged as a street, inside of a corral, 
or four-cornered wall of stone. The stone wall is 
pierced for firing through. The former station was 
burned down by Indians, and Indians may come 
gain. Hence it is necessary to be fortified. Not all 
the Indian tribes are kindly to Mormon scalps. The 
Gosh-Utes are said to respect the long locks of a 
Mormon no more than the short crop of an unbeliever. 
Mr. Davis has long hair. So has the blue-eyed, lame 
old Dane, who can hardly speak English, and who 
officiates as cook. He spreads for us a supper of fried 
beef, boiled onions, excellent boiled potatoes, and very 
palatable coffee. After supper Artemus and I retire 
to a sort of loft over the telegraph operating-room, 
where for one of us is a small truckle-bed, and for the 
other a shakedown of blankets on the floor. The loft 



A MORMON TELEGRAPHIST. 439 

is cold, for there are portholes all round it for firing 
through at the Indians. We notice that every man 
in the employment of the Overland Mail Company is 
furnished with a carbine and revolver. Before going 
to bed we stop up the portholes with old rags to keep 
out the cold, and place our revolvers beside us to keep 
out the Indians if called upon to do so. Artemus has 
his revolver in its case as usual. I ask him if the 
case is unlocked. He replies that it is not. I then 
inquire if he knows where the key is. 

" Oh ! don't bother/' says he. " I never know 
where the key is. When the Indians come, blow open 
my case with your pistol." 

As we fold the blankets around us we hear the 
click — click — click ! of the telegraph instrument in 
the room beneath,- and we know that Mr. W r alter 
Davis is sending information to Mr. Brigham Young 
that new visitors have entered Mormon territory. 
Mr. Davis has listened very attentively to our conver- 
sation. He may be retailing some of it to the 
Mormon chief two hundred miles away. 

Then we go to sleep, but we have scarcely slept 
half an hour before we are startled by a wild cry in 
the distance. We each ask the other what it means. 
Then we rest on our elbows and listen. 

" Whir — roo — roo — roo — roo — roo 1" 

Again it is repeated ; louder and nearer. 

" Are the Indians upon us ?" 

Artemus asks me the question in a voice of trepi- 
dation. As I am about to answer there is the sound 
of a horn, followed by the rumble of wheels. We 
listen, learn that the coach is coming in from Salt 
Lake City, and that the driver uses the Indian yell to 
warn the station-keepers of his approach. 



440 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

" If I were a cheerful Indian I'd scalp that noisy- 
fellow myself/' says Artemus, turning over to go to 
sleep again. 

Schell Creek has an open plain in front of it, and 
snow-clad mountains behind it. The creek furnishes 
water, the sage-brush fuel, while the pinon pine, here 
growing profusely, supplies the Indian with nearly all 
the diet he requires. He plucks its nuts in the 
autumn, and buries them in deep pits for use in winter. 
Any one anxious to know what their flavour is like, 
has only to take the kernel of a Brazil nut, soak it for 
twenty-four hours in strong turpentine, and then eat 
it with a little tar for sauce. 

While at Austin the idea struck Artemus that it 
would be funny to have some bills printed to take 
with us on our journey across the plains, and tack up 
in the huts of the various station-keepers. To be 
advertised in such a way across the American continent 
would be at least a novelty, and the probability was 
that the men in charge of the stations would preserve 
them to show to every passing traveller. Artemus 
dictated the wording of the little bill thus : u A Lecture 
will be delivered here, in a sweet voice, by Artemus 
Ward, the Wild Humorist of the Plains." The idea 
of any lecture being delivered in the stations of the 
American desert was in itself a farce. No doubt the 
announcement has caused many a laugh, and possibly 
some of the bills still remain. 

We spend the hour or two after breakfast before 
the coach starts in posting up these little bills and 
warming ourselves for the journey by taking a smart 
walk across the snow-covered plain. Then, with Mr. 
William Corbit for driver, we start for Spring Valley 
Station. On arriving there we find the keepers attend- 



THE CHIEF OF THE GOSH-UTES. 441 

ing to their duties, with their fire-arms, primed and 
cocked, on the table of their hut. An Indian attack 
is anticipated. We change our mustangs quickly, and 
drive away. We shall learn by-and-by that the 
Indians came two days after we left ; that the men who 
harnessed our mustangs were slain and scalped, and 
the station was burned to the ground. 

At the next station — Antelope Springs — we find the 
chief of the murderous Gosh-Utes sitting before the 
hut-keeper's fire. Artemus has picked up a few words 
of the Shoshonee language in Austin, and attempts to 
flatter the Indian by telling him that he is " Tibbtts- 
hansch" (good-hearted). The chief nods his head 
and makes signs that he wants tobacco. We give 
him some. In lighting his pipe some of the burning 
tobacco falls among the hair of a dried scalp attached 
to the chiefs girdle. As he brushes it away we notice 
that the hair is long and beautiful, and we wonder if 
it is that of a woman. 

From Antelope to Deep Creek, through a canyon 
guarded by lofty rocks, and marked with Indian trails. 
Thence to Willow Springs, Boyd's Station, Fish 
Springs, Black Rock, and Dugway. But where is 
Dugway ? 

That is our puzzle. " We shall soon be at Dug- 
way/' says our driver. His whoops and yells confirm 
us in that belief. We fancy too, that we can scent 
the strong odour of the fried rusty bacon which we 
know will be our meal. But where is the station ? 
Stretching out before us as far as our sight can range 
,is a vast barren plain. To our left are hills. We 
see the road on which we have to travel for the next 
ten miles. Then where is the station ? 

" Wor — r — r — r — r — roo \" shrieks the driver ; and 



442 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

out of the earth in front of us emerges a man, bring- 
ing up with him two horses. 

Dugway is dug in the earth. The stables and the 
sleeping-place of the poor fellow whose doom it is to 
live here are under the surface of the ground. We 
might drive over the roof of the stable with ease, 
though, the roof being of boughs and pieces of cedar 
wood, the wheels might go through. Here, in this 
subterranean abode, the station-master sleeps on a 
straw bed, and serves up hot meals for travellers on a 
black, unplaned table. He is a forlorn-looking man, 
whose eyes have a continuous stare, whose cheeks are 
hollow, whose matted hair hangs in elf-locks on his 
shoulders, whose arms are lank and angular, whose 
woollen clothing seems not to have been taken off nor 
known any cleansing process for years, and whose ap- 
pearance altogether suggests the idea of a man expiating 
in solitude some fearful crime, and self-banished from 
society which he feels he has no right to share. We 
pity him, and express curiosity as to what incidents of 
earlier life can have brought him to a position so un- 
enviable. 

" Murdered his mother, perhaps, on his birthday," 
whispers one of our fellow-travellers. " I have been 
told that every murderer who has escaped from Texas 
and Arizona is to be found along this line of road . 
And I guess Texas is pretty liberal in keeping up a 
supply." 

Dugway is a sorry specimen of a " station •" but 
most of the stations are miserable stopping places, 
where the only accommodation to be obtained is a. 
wood-fire, some hot coffee without milk or sugar, some 
coarse bread baked in the hut, and some fried bacon 
of the strongest flavour. We have fried bacon and 



COFFEE AND BACON. . 443 

coffee for breakfast, coffee and fried bacon for dinner, 
bacon fried and more coffee for supper. At some 
places the complaint is that the Company has forgotten 
to send on any bacon, and we must be satisfied with 
the coffee and hot bread. If we have brought on any 
whisky, and give a glass to the station-keeper, he is a 
happy being. As. a rule, the drivers along the road 
abstain from drinking whisky while driving in winter. 
They tell us that with hot coffee just before starting 
on the journey they are much better able to withstand 
the cold. 

For our meals at each station we pay a dollar per 
head.' After a few days of overland travel we feel 
that we would gladly give twenty dollars for a meal 
in an American restaurant car, while a refreshment 
station on the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, 
with a Spiers and Pond's buffet on one side, and 
Smith and Son's newspaper-stall on the other, would 
be a dream of paradise. But the Pacific Railway will 
soon extend across the desert, and something better 
than strong bacon will be obtainable in the neighbour- 
hood of Dugway. 

From station to station, each from fifteen to eighteen 
miles apart, day and night, cramped up in our narrow 
coach, jerked forward, tossed backward, jolted from 
side to side, tumbled over, thrown out, bruised, battered, 
and sore all over, irritable through want of sleep, ner- 
vous with continuity of excitement, and weary of the 
cheerless monotony of the scenery, we are too jaded 
to talk and too drowsy to be convivial. Our driver 
for one stage of the journey is a Connecticut man, and 
knows the famous showman Barnum. As we dismount 
and toil up a mountain with him, the horses going at 
a slow pace, he tells us two or three anecdotes of 



444 - THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Barnum, and presently says, " I guess you should 
hear him tell the story of the smart minister." 

We ask what the story is, and the driver thus nar- 
rates it, but with more idiomatic expression : — 

" I guess it's the darndest story about a minister I 
ever heard. He was a parson in our old State of 
Connecticut. His name was Day. • He used to pitch 
it mighty strong in his sermons, till his church got a 
kinder skeered, and fancied he was going all the wrong 
way. So they called a grand church meetin' at Mid- 
dletown, and commanded the minister to appear before 
them. On his way to the grand meeting the minister 
happened on another clergyman who was the very man 
who had called the church together to punish Mr. 
Day. One didn't know the other, for they preached 
miles apart. I'm dubersome about the name of the 
old parson, but as the other one's name was Day we 
will call him Night. He was a hard-hearted man, 
stiff in the back, and down upon all his brother 
ministers if he hard anything against them. He asked 
Mr. Day for his name. c My name is Mr. Richard, 
from Fairfield,' said the minister, for his right name 
was the Reverend Richard Day, and he was keepin' to 
the truth. ' Then you know the Reverend Day who 
lives there,' says the Reverend Night. Mr. Day said 
he did, and he oughter pretty much I guess. t What 
sort of a minister is he?' asks Mr. Night. Where- 
upon Mr. Richard, as he called himself, tells the other 
minister that Mr. Day is not a man he should like to 
say anything against, but he's an all-fired hypocrite, 
and bad at heart, and don't believe in anything, and 
has been caught out in many bad acts. l Can you tell 
me one ? I want to know one or two,' says the 
Reverend Night. ' Caught him out more than once 



CLERICAL SMARTNESS. 445 

kissing my own wife/ says Mr. Richard. ' Horrible ! 
and I believe it of him — I believe anything of him/ 
says Mr. Night. ' That's not the worst part of it, 
but Fve caught him at it in my wife's own bedroom/ 
f And where was your wife, Mr. Richard V says the 
other. ' In bed/ says the minister who was having 
the fun. ' Quite enough/ says Mr. Night. ' That 
will do. It's all I wanted. We will soon dispose of 
Mr. Day at our Church Assembly/ Next day the 
Assembly of all the ministers met. They charged Mr. 
Day with heresy. Up jumps Mr. Night. ' Never 
mind the heresy/ says he. f I am in possession of 
facts against the Rev. Richard Day which will be enough 
to expel him from our Church. Providence has put 
the facts in my way. I can prove he has been caught 
kissing the wife of another minister of our Church in 
her own bedroom.' " 

" Gentlemen/' said the driver of the stage, " you 
can imagine the shindy there was among the ministers. 
Ail of them looked straight at Mr. Day, for all of 
them knew him except Mr. Night. ' Bring your 
witnesses into court/ cries the parsons. Mr. Night 
stood up and said, f I call upon the Rev. Mr. Richard 
of Fairfield to affirm to you the facts upon oath.' 
Mr. Day never moved, and the Chairman of the 
Church wanted to know where Mr. Richard was. 
s Here he is/ says Mr. Night, stepping straight out 
and laying his hand slap on Mr. Day's shoulder. 
f Here he is. And it was his wife that our erring 
brother, Mr. Day, kissed.' Gentlemen, you can imagine. 
The hull [whole] Church burst its sides with laughter, 
f That is the Rev. Richard Day/ says the Chairman. 
The Reverend Night couldn't see the bearings of the 
case at first, but when he got it all into his wool he 



446 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

wilted [when he understood it he broke down] , He 
looked round for the way out, and went off like a 
streak of lightning. There wasn't any more heresy 
in the Church after that."* 

Our drivers across the desert are all eccentric 
characters, and each has his stock of quaint stories. 
Unfortunately we get but few opportunities for con- 
versing with them, shut up as we are within the coach. 
Nor do we care to roll up the leathern blinds and look 
out, for the wind is keen, and the land through which 
we are going is dreary in the extreme. It is a land 
in which no living thing seems to find a home. For 
miles after miles the desert is covered with a carpet of 
alkali, and even the sage-brush and the grease wood 
give up their right to the desert and cease to grow. 

From Look-Out Mountain to Rush Valley, and on 
to Camp Crittenden, where we arrive an hour before 
midnight. Here to our surprise we are among ruins, 
and ruins of any sort are to us curiosities. The camp 
was once called Camp Floyd, and was then a lively 
military outpost, consisting of a number of huts built 
of adobe or sun-dried bricks. Mr. Floyd went over 
to the Southern cause, and loyalty has changed the 
name of the Camp to that of " Crittenden." The 
adobe huts are roofless, and the mud-built walls are 
full of gaps and fissures. 

" Thar's no crossing the Jordan till daylight," says 
our driver. " The river is frozen over. You can 
take a sleep on the floor in the back office if you 
like." 

At seven in the morning we leave Camp Crittenden 



* While these pages are going through the press I learn that 
Mr. Barnnm has recently told this story himself in another form. 



A MORMON FARMER. 447 

and drive on to Jordan Station. Eight miles beyond 
the station we come to the river, plunging down to it 
through high banks of snow. The telegraph-posts 
indicate the route, jutting up as they do above the 
snowy wilderness. The frozen surface breaks beneath 
the wheels of our coach, and we ford the stream amid 
the splash of water and the crash of breaking ice. 
By the time we have crossed we are wet and 
chilly, well-sprinkled as we are with the waters of the 
Jordan of the western world. 

Across more plains of snow and over snow-covered 
hills, and we arrive at "Rockwell, where we tind a 
well-built adobe house, with a capital farmyard ad- 
joining. We are informed that this is the residence 
of Mr. Porter Rockwell, of whom we have often heard 
as being one of the chief officers in Brigham Young's 
Danite Band, or secret corps of " Destroying Angels." 
Artemus, pricked in conscience by the burlesque on 
the Mormons he wrote a year or two ago, is not 
desirous to make the acquaintance of a Destroying 
Angel. He becomes calmer on learning that Mr. 
Rockwell is not at home, and accepts an invitation 
from one of Mr. Rockwell's wives to go into the farm- 
yard and look at two large pigs, the larger of which 
weighs nine hundredweight. Among other of Mr. 
Rockwell's characteristics is his fondness for fat swine. 
Notwithstanding all that we have heard concerning 
him, we presently come to the conclusion that lie must 
be better than rumour has represented. We find 
on a chair a copy of the Times published in London 
about seven weeks previously, and we doubt if a man 
who takes in the Times, and has the enterprise to 
bring it into the midst of the American desert, can be 
altogether unsociable, even though he be a Destroying 



443 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Angel ; and even though, at the command of his 
church, he has shot a few sinners who have stood in 
the way of the " saints." 

At Rockwell we dry ourselves after our drenching 
in the Jordan, and drive on nine miles more through 
the snow, to a stopping-place called Trader's Rest. 
Here we find a lone house, in one room of which a 
sickly-looking woman is cooking dinner for herself and 
six ill- clad children. She tells us that her name is 
Mrs. White, that she came here from Doncaster, in 
England, that her husband has been dead fifteen 
months, that she has had thirteen children altogether, 
and that seven of them are buried here. Her husband 
she says was a Mormon, but she is not. "And I 
don't want my children to be/' says she. "I am 
going back to Yorkshire as soon as I can get 
away." 

We are thirteen miles from Salt Lake City. As we 
hasten towards it from Trader's Rest, we pass from the 
wilderness into a garden. Indications of fertility of 
soil become apparent on each side, though the time is 
midwinter, and the ground covered with snow. We 
drive by neat little farmhouses, cross many small 
bridges, notice how well fenced in are the several lots 
of land, and how good the road is, notwithstanding its 
wintry drawbacks. In front of us and to our right 
are high mountains. To our left is another range 
partially shutting in the valley. But the mountains 
on the left do not join those in the front. There is a 
great gap between; and, as though the rock-wall of 
the valley had suddenly opened and the mountains 
glided back, we see through the open space, snowy 
peaks in the far-off distance. In that gap, and steep- 
ing in its waveless brine the bases of those distant 



MR. HEBER C. KIMBALL'S HAREM. 



■^-^^^^^^^w" 





Mr. Kimball's seraglio is large ; his wive, are not all kept under one 

^Z'JZS&T'*- where ** ■« — « •"■&?£& 



TABERNACLE AND BOWERY, UTAH. 




rirhT^ *^P t0 thC l6 ! ft iS the Tabemacle 5 within the enclosure, to the 

Aflg^a^ shed ' in which *■ ™ « hen 



IN THE CITY OF THE MORMONS. 449 

mountains, is the Dead Sea of America — the Great 
Salt Lake of the Mormons. 

" Gentlemen, that is Brother Townsend's," says our 
driver as he drives past the Salt Lake House, where we 
are going to stop, and proceeds to the office of the 
Overland Mail Company. " Brother Townsend will 
take care of you well ; but you can't get him to give 
you any whisky. If you want that, you'll get it at 
the dry- goods store just beyond." 



Q Q 



450 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

INSIDE THE MORMON HOTEL, 

" OEE all as if you were not looking, and keep your 

<J thoughts to yourself." 

That was the advice of Captain U , of the 

Third Californian Cavalry, an old acquaintance whom 
I had warned by telegraph of my coming, and who was 
waiting for me at the Salt Lake House. 

" The people in this place/'' continued the Captain, 
" will try to be very friendly with you. They will let 
you see the best side of everything. If you believe all 
they tell you, you will go away without knowing any- 
thing about them. They are hospitable because they 
want to be well reported to the world. They are 
courteous because they think it to be the right policy 
to insure your "being so courteous in return as to say 
nothing about them. But they would rather you had 
stayed away; and, if Uncle Sam didn't keep us up 
there in Camp Douglas to protect you, you might find 
their hospitality to be a grave matter." 

Here let me again change the key of my story, 
resume the past tense, and write of Salt Lake City as 
Artemus and I became acquainted with it in the early 
part of 1864. 

There are travellers who pack theories in their 
carpet bags, and who never travel without a pair of 



MORMON COURTESY. 451 

tinted spectacles. They know what they mean to see 
before they start, and they see it, where nothing is 
visible to any one else. Being neither politician nor 
philosopher I determined to look around me in Salt 
Lake City simply as a showman, to note what I saw, 
and not allow myself to be hoodwinked by my 
brother showmen — Brigham Young and his Mormon 
elders. 

In less than an hour after our arrival we were 
waited on by a gentleman who wore a large, rough 
poncho cloak and a Scotch cap, and whose throat was 
well wrapped up with a worsted comforter. His 
manner was bland in the extreme. His step was of a 
gliding character, suggestive of one who was accus- 
tomed to go on delicate missions. He snuffled as he 
spoke, and announced himself as being the Postmaster 
of the city, and brought some letters from his office 
for Artemus Ward. 

" That is one of the great saints," said Captain 

IT , drawing me aside. " He is Elder Stenhouse, 

Brigham Young's confidential friend. He comes to 
reconnoitre. On guard ! — Be wary V 

Elder Stenhouse soon became very chatty, but 
mingled questions with his information. A Scotch- 
man by birth, the proverbial caution of his race was 
evident even when he was most communicative. 
Nothing could exceed his urbanity. To be the means 
of making us supremely happy during our stay in 
Utah, seemed to be the business to which he had 
generously devoted himself. He had once been a 
reporter attached to the staff of the New York Herald, 
and did not omit the opportunity of ingratiating him- 
self with Artemus on the ground of being a fellow- 
professional. Gradually, Elder Stenhouse succeeded 
g g 2 



452 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

in extracting from Artemus a statement of why we 
had come to Salt Lake, what we proposed to do, what 
time we intended to stay, and the fears Artemus had 
of not being well received in consequence of what he 
had written. 

" The President has your book in his library," 
said Mr. Stenhouse, who always spoke of Brigham 
Young by his title in the Mormon Church. " He 
has all the books that have been written about him. 
You ought not to have made ridicule of our Church." 

Artemus explained that he wrote the article under 
pressure, that he knew little about the Mormons at 
the time of writing it, that he was sincerely sorry if 
he had given them pain by what he had written, that 
he hoped they would allow him to lecture among 
them, and that if Brigham Young would condone the 
offence and allow us to see real Mormon life in the 
Mormon capital, more justice would be done to the 
" Saints" in future writings. 

To all this Elder Stenhouse replied that he would 
see the Head of the Church on the subject, put the 
matter in a proper light before him, procure an intro- 
duction for Artemus, and if possible win him pardon 
for his written offence. When Mr. Stenhouse left, 
we rejoined the military gentlemen who had welcomed 
us on our arrival. Artemus remarked to one of them 
that the Postmaster appeared to be a very well-in- 
formed man. 

" He is about the only educated man among these 
people," replied one of the officers confidentially. 
u He has been a missionary for Brigham Young in 
England, France, Switzerland, and Italy. He edited 
the newspaper here, and can write poetry. His wife 
speaks good French, and is the fashionable milliner." 



TEE SALT LAKE HOUSE. 453 

I remarked that Mr. Stenhouse appeared to be the 
very soul of courtesy and affability. 

"Were he not he wouldn't do for a spy of 
Brigham' s," replied my informant. " He is the look- 
out crow for him, who tells him when danger is 
approaching; and he's Brighanr's pump to pump up 
all his master wants to know. He's smart as a steel- 
trap in his way, and would have your eye-teeth out 
before you knew he was drawing them." 

Artemus observed that the poncho cloak and the 
general attire of the Postmaster gave him the look of 
an amiable brigand. 

" There's a pistol under that cloak ; and as for his 
amiability it's all very well so long as you don't touch 
him on Mormonism. He's sold himself body and 
soul to Brigham like old Faustus sold himself to 
the Devil. There, isn't a word Brigham would 
say but what that Post-office Apostle would swear 
to." 

Our hotel in Salt Lake City was at the time of 
our visit the only one of any importance. I believe 
that it still retains its superiority, though rival estab- 
lishments have recently arisen. It stands on Main 
Street, and is called the Salt Lake House. The 
present landlord is Colonel Little, a military Mormon. 
When Artemus and I took up our quarters within it 
the host was Mr. James Townsend — hotel-keeper, 
farmer, and missionary. 

In 1864 the Salt Lake House was a two- story 
wooden building, with a covered balcony or gallery in 
front of the upper story. There was a planked foot- 
path in front, with wooden posts for idlers to lean 
against and whittle away. Opposite was a little 
smithy, and next door was a razor- artist who styled 



454 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN 

himself on the show-board in front of his shop, a 
" Physiological Barber." 

Inside the Salt Lake House there were no luxuries 
and few conveniences. On the left of the chief en- 
trance was a room with a large stove in the middle 
of it, a few chairs, and some forms. In this room 
were always to be found three or four travellers and 
many loiterers. On the right of the main doorway 
was another room with a private door opening on the 
street. It was furnished with two beds, two or three 
chairs, one small table, and a miniature stove. The 
walls were of rough wood. There was no carpet and 
no attempt at decoration. Bad as it was, it was the 
best room of the house, and Artemus and I were 
allowed to be its occupants. 

At the back of the hotel was a long room, bare 
and cheerless in its appearance, with a table down the 
middle of it and windows through which you could 
look out on a yard encumbered with rubbish. This 
was used as a dining-room, and the kitchen was at 
the end of it. Overhead were sleeping apartments 
for travellers, and in contiguity with the dining-room 
were a number of ill-built out-houses. 

Of our landlord, Mr. Townsend, or " Brother Towns- 
end," as Mr. Stenhouse always called him, we saw but 
little. He was constantly busy attending to his farm or 
to duties required of him by the Church, and appeared 
a very quiet, inoffensive, rural-minded kind of man. 

Domestic affairs in the hotel were controlled by 
Mrs. Townsend, a lady much younger than her 
husband. She was a lively, kindly, gentle and atten- 
tive hostess, who nursed poor Artemus during a 
season of severe illness with all the care and solicitude 
of a mother, and whose cheery disposition made sun- 



MRS. TOWNSEND No. 1 AND No. 2. 455 

shine in the shadiest places of that very shady 
hotel. 

We had not long been guests at the Salt Lake 
House when I learned that our amiable landlady was 
Mrs. Townsend No. 2. Where was Mrs. Townsend 
No. 1 ? I asked for her ; was informed that she was 
living and on the premises, but was never seen in the 
hotel. Anxious to become acquainted with the social 
phases of Mormonism, I desired to know more of the 
hidden wife who never appeared upon the scene. I 
discovered her in an outhouse behind the hotel, where 
she lived apart in comfortless seclusion. No. 1 was 
much older than No. 2, and by no means so present- 
able. It was hinted to me that her wits were a little 
wavering, and that she had never thoroughly recon- 
ciled herself to the will of the Church that her 
husband should take unto himself another bride. 
Here, in the position of this neglected woman, I 
obtained one glimpse at the working of the Mormon 
system worth more than a volunfe of theories. 

Let me frankly state, however, that I have no 
reason for believing that No. 1 was badly treated by 
No. 2 ; for so kindly-disposed was the Mrs. Townsend 
we met daily, that I doubt if she could have behaved 
harshly to any living creature. It struck me also 
that the thought at times presented itself to her, that 
as her predecessor was, she might come to be ; and, 
that when No. 3 should be deputed to receive the 
guests, No. 2 might have to betake herself to an out- 
house like to that occupied by No. 1. 

There were no female servants attached to the 
hotel. At Salt Lake instead of a man engaging 
many female domestics he marries many wives. In 
one of them he finds all the qualifications for a 



456 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

parlour-maid ; in another he detects the attributes of 
an excellent nurse ; in a third he perceives the virtues 
of a laundress ; and in a fourth the requirements of a 
governess competent to attend to the education of the 
children of all her " sisters/' — to use the word by 
which a Mormon wife refers to those who share with 
her in the affections of her polygamous husband. 

Artemus became accustomed to call Mrs. Townsend 
our landlord's " best- third." The exile in the out- 
house precluded there being any "better-half." 

There was a profane merchant resident in the City 
who used to speak of the wives in the Mormon house- 
holds as " the numerals/'' and who puzzled Artemus 
shortly after our arrival at Salt Lake by saying that 
he had "just met Apostle Benson walking out with 
his numerals." I believe that Apostle Benson rejoiced 
in only i, 2, 3, and 4. 

% What we lacked in female domestics at the Salt 
Lake House was made up for in the person of a 
mysterious old manA:nown as " Thomas/' — Thomas 
was the clerk, porter, messenger, acting -manager, 
chamber-cleaner, and fire-lighter to the establishment. 
To him we applied for anything wanted, and from him 
we obtained our daily information. He was a white- 
haired old man, born in Devonshire, if I remember 
rightly, and converted to Mormonism before he left 
England. Thomas had a shuffling gait, great activity, 
a habit of always turning up, no matter in what part 
of the hotel one might happen to be. He had keen old 
eyes that seemed to be always on the watch, and a pecu- 
liarity of carrying his head slightly twisted to one side 
as if he were continually listening. Thomas waited 
upon us at table, and glided noiselessly into our room in 
the early morning to attend to the fire. Though bald- 



VALLEY-TAN. 457 

headed and slightly bent with age, he appeared never 
to tire nor ever to go to sleep. Stay up as late as you 
pleased, Thomas was inclined to stay up with you. 
Rise as early as you liked, you found Thomas bustling 
about the premises. Under the stairs leading to the 
upper story was a cupboard, and of that cupboard 
Thomas had the key. In it he kept the candles which 
he gave out nightly to the guests, and in it he kept also 
— poked far away out of sight in a corner — the cynosure 
of the establishment — a bottle of good whisky. 

Brigham Young prohibits drinking-bars and billiard- 
rooms in the territory over which he rules. He con- 
siders that neither are good for the much-married 
community of the " Saints " at Utah. In the Salt 
Lake House there was no bar, nor any barrels, bottles, 
or Bacchanal belongings exposed to view. Any person 
selling ardent spirit in the City was liable to a heavy 
penalty. The maker of this law was the only one 
permitted to break it ; for a few score yards up the 
street above the Salt Lake HoAe was a place at which 
Valley -Tan could be bought, and Valley-Tan is the 
Mormon name for home-made whisky, manufactured 
by Brigham Young at his own distillery, sold by him 
at a properly appointed office, where it is only to be 
bought wholesale by those who are permitted to pur- 
chase, and who must take it to their own homes for 
private consumption. 

Valley-Tan is not likely to find a large export 
market. It is the vilest whisky I remember tasting. 
Worse even than some I once moistened my lips with 
at Cairo in Illinois, when arriving very late at night 
after a cold and dreary journey on the Illinois Central 
Railway I asked a " bar-tender " for a drink to warm 
me — " Which will you have V was his question — 



458 THE GENIAL BEOWMAN. 

" Sudden Death, or Live a Week V 3 I was bold enough 
to ask for some Sudden Death. Half a teaspoonful 
was enough. Only a sufficient quantity was required 
to make good the right to the name. 

Strong drink was to be had in Salt Lake at the 
stores of the Gentile merchants, but they gave it away 
— not sold it. There were various large stores kept 
by traders who were not Mormons, and in the rear of 
each was a little " office " where a stimulant was always 
obtainable after making a purchase in the front shop. 
You could buy a pick-axe and be treated with a glass 
of Bourbon, or purchase a pocket-handkerchief and be 
asked to taste " a little old rye." But the black bottle 
in the back corner of old Thomas's cupboard was a 
treasure to the thirsty spirits who chanced to travel in 
Utah. When you had gained the confidence of Thomas 
he would unlock the cupboard noiselessly, even if the 
hour was as late as midnight, take out the bottle in 
a furtive manner, and dole out a drain with cautious 
charity. What puzzled me for a time was the fact 
that Thomas would treat a new comer as liberally 
as he would a guest of the hotel. But Thomas 
drank little himself at the time of treating. Whisky 
made travellers communicative. Thomas listened to 
what they had to say. No one was afraid of saying 
anything to an old man so kind and harmless. They 
told him why they had come to Salt Lake City, and 
what their ideas were relative to Mormonism. What 
did Thomas care ? He gave them another dose, and 
let them talk. When they had done he put away the 
bottle. Next morning Brigham Young knew all about 
the latest arrivals at the Salt Lake House : why they 
came and what they thought. A splendid fellow was 
old Thomas ! 



STRANGE MEN BOUND THE STOVE. 459 

And strange men were many of the guests in that 
Mormon hotel ! Grouped around the stove in the 
evening would be types of nearly all the conditions of 
humanity to be met with on the borders of civilization 
— exemplars of most of the aberrations of social human 
nature developed in the American wilderness — miners, 
travelling traders, trappers, hunters, drovers, teamsters, 
fugitives, and mauvais sujets of the roughest kind. To 
get a place in the circle with them round the fire was 
not easy without running against the projecting barrel 
of a revolver, or the protruding end of a bowie-knife 
sheath. A few days before our arrival a man named 
Jason Luce — a Mormon, by the way — had killed a 
miner of the name of Dunning, by stabbing him in 
the back with a bowie-knife in front of the doorway of 
Mr. Townsend's hotel. A Mormon jury tried the 
murderer, and Mormon soldiers shot him. 

Artemus and I would take seats amongst these 
strange men round the stove, and listen to their 
stories of adventure. One evening the group was 
added to by a tall, gaunt, hollow-cheeked man with 
long black hair and shaggy eyebrows, whose dress 
was that of a miner, with a dash of the garb of a 
brigand thrown in. He wore a dirty sheepskin over his 
red shirt, and a fur cap which came down over his 
eyes. In his belt was a pistol, and slung at his back 
a gun. He had come down from the Bannock 
mines, and had brought with him a full verbal report 
of the hanging of the notorious Jack Gallagher and 
eleven other men at Bannock City in Montana by the 
Vigilance Committee. Our new arrival was known to 
many of the men round the stove. They saluted him 
as " Judge." 

" The committee had eighty-three on their black 



460 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

list," said the judge ; " they have hanged twelve. I 
had notice to leave Bannock within half-an-hour ; I 
was to be hanged if I was caught within twelve miles 
of it in two hours after leaving. I got a horse and 
came away without bringing anything with me. I 
rode fifteen hours, then my horse and I cached in the 
snow [sheltered in a hole] . Next day my horse died, 
and I was so hungry I had to eat some of him. Fve 
travelled over the mountains, and slept five nights in 
the snow; both my feet are frost-bitten, and this left 
ear seems to be turned into leather. What am I to 
do now? I have got a bad name, and I know they 
wont let me stay here ; I shall have twenty-four hours' 
notice to clear, and then I must start for Nevada. 
When I get there I shall have to clear again, and 
make tracks for California; when I get there they 
wont have me, — I know they wont. I have been 
hunted out of New Zealand, hunted out of Australia, 
hunted out of Oregon. Fve got the curse of Cain on 
me. This d — d world wont let me have a corner to 
myself!" 

The "judge" was right. Orders came that he was 
to leave Salt Lake City within twenty hours, in the 
best way he could. 

Smoking a black pipe beside the stove in the even- 
ing was another eccentric character, whose cheeks 
were puffy, whose eyes were bleared, and who, though 
dejected in his manner, was disposed to be chatty and 
communicative. He was a miner, but not a fortunate 
one. 

" All my ill-luck comes about through my having 
married a mystery," said he. 

He had referred more than once to the cause of his 



MARRIED TO A MYSTERY. 461 

misfortune ; when one night he became more informa- 
tive than usual, and told his story 

u My friend Harry Rickards here knows to the 
truth of what I say. If I had never married a 
mystery there would have been no Utah, Idaho, or 
Montana for me. I never knew which I married." 

" But you said just now that she was a mystery," 
observed one of his companions. 

" Yes, she, — but which she ?" he continued. " It 
was just this way : — There were two sisters in our 
village ; one of them loved *me considerably, and I 
loved her pretty much for a time. Her name was 
Grace ; the other one's name was Hester. At last I 
got to love Hester best, and all of a sudden I made 
up my mind to marry her. Both were nice girls, very 
like each other, and they had a rich uncle who had 
made his pile in the East India trade years ago, and 
lived out at Salem. It was a dark winter's day when 
we got married ; we joined hands before the minister, 
my wife spoke so low I could hardly hear what she 
said, and she would hold down her head and wear a 
white veil. We were married at my wife's house ; 
when the minister said, ' I pronounce you to be hus- 
band and wife/ I supposed I'd married Hester. She 
bobbed away from me right smart, and I guess I 
waited for her quite a while. Presently in runs Grace, 
throws her arms round my neck, kisses me, and says, 
c You are my husband now, dear Josh, and I am your 
wife !' I got scared, and told her she was not right 
in her calculation for I had married Hester. Up 
comes Hester, and tells me I had been a kinder taken 
in in the matter. Grace wanted me, and she had let 
Grace have me. I had married Grace, and did not 



462 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

know what I was doing. I asked the minister about 
it ; he told me I ought to know which was my wife. 
With that I got riled ; so I put on my hat and went 
off like all fury and as mad as all wrath to Lawyer 
Briggs, and I said some very rough things to poor 
Grace before I went. I told Lawyer Briggs all about 
it. He went on opening some letters while I talked 
to him. Presently he threw down his spectacles, 
stared me in the face, and asked me if I had married 
Grace ? Says I, • Grace says I have ; but I guess my 
intentions were towards Hester/ Lawyer Briggs 
whistled, and told me not to be a fool; says he, 
' You've done the slickest thing you've ever done in 
your life. The uncle of the girls has just died over at 
Salem, and left all his dollars to Grace ; if you are her 
husband you've married an heiress !' With that I 
rushed back to the cottage to find Grace. She 
wouldn't come to me when I called her; when she 
came she was crumpling up a letter and putting it in 
her pocket. I told her I had forgiven the trick, and 
meant to have her for my wife. With that she 
laughed right in my face, and said they had only been 
trying to rile me, for it was Hester, after all, I had got 
myself married to. Says I, ( I guess you can't come 
that on me; you are my wife, and I don't mean to 
have any other.' While I was trying to quiet her 
spirits Lawyer Briggs rides up to the door like a man 
all possessed, and draws me aside. Says he, c I've got 
another letter from Salem, the first was a mistake; 
the property is left to Hester, not to Grace. I felt 
quite beat ; so, 'cute like, I went up to Hester and 
said I'd take her. She burst out a laughing, and told 
me not to be a fool ; but as I'd married Grace to keep 
to her. Then they all fell to laughing at me. I got 



A MYSTERIOUS RUIK. 463 

into an all-fired rage, ran out of the cottage, went to 
Boston, drank whisky for a week, then shipped myself 
down to New Orleans, and here I am out in Utah." 

" But you are married to one of those girls, Josh ?" 
suggested the listener to the narrative. 

" I guess I am — I guess I am ; but it's a mystery. 
I married a mystery, and it's been my ruin \" 

" You should go back to New England and solve 
the mystery/' I ventured to remark. 

" I guess I'd better stay where I am," he replied ; 
" I shall make out pretty well up at the Alder Gulch 
mines, and I'd better not get my brains crazy with 
any more mysteries." 



464 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE CHURCH IN THE THEATRE AND THE 
THEATRE IN THE CHURCH. 

" HP HE theatre will be open to-night. The play will 

-L be The Stranger. Brigham Young will be there 
with most of his family. You must go/' 

So said one of the cavalry officers to Artemus Ward 
a few hours after our arrival in Salt Lake City. 

Unfortunately poor Artemus was too jaded, travel- 
worn, and exhausted to avail himself of the opportu- 
nity. To me the attraction was powerful enough to 
overcome my fatigue, and draw me away from a bright 
fire and an easy-chair. 

A theatre in the midst of the wilderness ! A theatre 
in a valley shut in by mountains and surrounded by 
a thousand square miles of desert ! A theatre with 
Indian savages almost within hail ! A theatre near the 
shores of the great Dead Sea of America ! A theatre be- 
longing to a Church — erected, managed, and frequented 
by " Saints!" Could a showman abstain from going ? 

The City of the Saints is the favourite name for the 
metropolis of Utah among the Mormons. Its inhabi- 
tants manifest no diffidence in arrogating to themselves 
peculiar holiness. They consider the saintly character 
to be exclusively their own, and all who are not 
Mormons are " Gentiles/'' 



TEE SALT LAKE THEATRE. 465 

Brigham Young, arch-priest and saintliest of the 
" Saints," built the theatre ; to maintain it the Church 
lends its authority, and to go to the play is a duty in 
the code of Mormon ethics. 

I left Artemus slumbering before the fire ; and in 
the midst of a heavy snow-storm sought my way to 
the theatre. I found it on the corner of an adjacent 
street. People were wending their way to it along the 
middle of the road, for the snow-drift was too deep 
for them to use the footpath. There were a few small 
houses with wooden pales in front of them, and beyond 
them a large rectangular building, so large as to dwarf 
every other structure in the neighbourhood. The long 
black side wall visible through the snow-storm, re- 
called to my recollection the Waterloo Road side of the 
Victoria Theatre in London as seen from the New Cut. 
On a nearer inspection I found the building to present 
few claims to architectural merit externally, though it 
is but fair to acknowledge that its exterior was then 
incomplete. The style of architecture was the Doric, 
with Mormon modifications. 

In a small office to the left of the entrance was the 
money-taker, handing out tickets at a window. I 
found that admission to the dress circle was only a 
dollar. As I paid the amount in a gold coin bright 
and fresh from the Californian mint, I noticed that 
the money-taker took stock of me. I returned the 
compliment and listened to him whistling the air of 
" The Groves of Blarney." I was not aware at the 
time that I was gazing at a bishop ! 

Internally the theatre presented as incomplete an 
appearance as the exterior. There was very little 
attempt at decoration, other than that obtainable by 
the use of white paint and gilding. There was a large 

H H 



466 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

pit or " parquette " as the Americans call it, having a 
high rake from the orchestra towards the back, thus 
allowing occupants of seats in the rear to have as good 
view of the stage as those in front. I counted the pit, 
and found that there were about eight hundred people 
in it. The price of admission was seventy-five cents. 
Over the dress-circle -was an upper box tier the ad- 
mission to which was fifty cents, and over that again 
a gallery to which the charge was twenty-five cents, 
or about one English shilling. 

Some of my cavalry friends undertook to point out 
the arrangements of the house. They told me that 
the dress-circle was the part which Gentiles frequented, 
and that the pit was specially reserved for Mormons, 
with their families. I noticed that nearly every man 
in it was accompanied by two, three, or more ladies, and 
that in some instances an entire family occupied a row, 
there being only one adult male among the number. 

On each side of the proscenium was a private box 
on the same plane as the dress-circle. These boxes 
were fitted up with green curtains. No other drapery 
was used for decoration elsewhere in the house. 

Under the dress-circle to my right, and a little more 
elevated than the floor of the pit, were a series of seats 
like pews, running parallel with the side wall of the 
theatre. Occupying them were fifty-nine women and 
children, all very plainly dressed, and none of them re- 
markable for good looks. 

"That is the Prophet's Pen/ 5 said my Gentile in- 
formant, " and those are his wives and daughters. 
There are more of them in those seats of the parquette 
where you see the large rocking-chair." 

" Whose is that, and why is it ^here ?" I asked. 

u That's where the Prophet sits when he is in the 



MBS. EALLER AT SALT LAKE. 467 

bosom of his family. It's a pretty large bosom," 
remarked the officer, dryly. 

"But where is the Prophet himself?" 

" That's he. Over in yon proscenium box with the 
green curtains to it. The lady beside him is his 
favourite wife — Sister Amelia. Brigham likes to sit 
up there because he can keep an eye upon his family 
down below, and see the Gentiles in the dress-circle. 
He's having a look through his opera-glass at the 
General just now." 

The General referred to was General Connor, the 
commander of the troops in Camp Douglas. As I 
was subsequently informed, the General had been 
stationed in Utah for nearly two years, and during the 
whole of that time had resolutely refused to have any 
intercourse with Brigham Young, regarding him in the 
light of an enemy to the United States, with whom one 
day he might have to come in conflict. General 
Connor was a frequent visitor to the theatre, where he 
was in full view of the Mormon President, but no sign 
of recognition passed between them. 

The Mrs. Haller of the evening was Mrs. Irwin, a 
lady who under her maiden name of Miss Rainforth I 
had seen a few years before on the stage of the 
Museum in Boston. Mr. Irwin, her husband, enacted 
the part of The Stranger. Both were Gentile "stars" 
who had come on a professional trip to Utah. Some 
days after my visit to the theatre I had an opportunity 
of spending an evening with them at their private 
residence, and found them to be loud in their praises 
of the kindly treatment they had received among the 
saints. Their eulogies were many, not only of the 
. hospitality they ha^. experienced, but also of the general 
management of the theatre, and of the courtesy shown 

H H % 



468 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

to them by all behind the curtain. They were almost 
the first " stars " who had found their way across the 
wilderness to play in Brigham Young's theatre. Since 
then many actors and actresses of note have appeared 
on those boards. With the Pacific Railway in full 
operation there will be few histrionic artistes in the 
United States who will not take a trip to the Mormons, 
don the sock and buskin, and use the hare's foot on 
the shores of the Great Salt Lake. 

I asked who were the other ladies and gentlemen of 
the company, and received my reply in nearly the 
following words : — 

" They are all Mormons — every one of them. The 
part of The Baron is being played by Mr. Caine, the 
stage-manager. Countess Wintersen is Mrs. Clawson, 
wife of Hiram Clawson, the manager. He has three 
wives. This lady is No. 2. The part of Peter is being 
played by Mr. Margetts, he is one of their low come- 
dians, a very good fellow. He has three wives also. 
All their wives learn to play ; so that if one gets ill 
they can easily send on another for the part/" 

After the play of The Stranger came the farcical 
piece known as Paddy Miles's Boy. The part of 
Henry, according to the bills, was played by Mr. 
Sloan. So soon as that gentleman came on the stage 
I recognised him as being the money-taker to whom I 
had paid my dollar on entering. 

The Mormon President left his box, came down to 
the pit, and took his seat in the rocking-chair. During 
the performance of the farce he laughed heartily, and 
entered into conversation with two or three of his 
wives. I had been led to expect that in Brigham 
Young I should find a man of severe aspect, stately 
presence, and solemn demeanour. My misconceptions 



THE MORMON PRESIDENT. 469 

were dissipated when, looking at him through an 
opera-glass, I saw a robust, jolly, pleasant-faced gen- 
tleman, with a ruddy complexion, hair of the colour of 
sand, light eyes, the lines of the face curving upwards 
instead of downward, his chest broad, his hands large, 
his age apparently about sixty; his appearance that of 
a well-to-do farmer, and his manner cheerful and 
agreeable as became a man who had forty of his 
children around him, and I know not how many of 
his wives. In the early morning I had crossed the 
Jordan, the waters of the Dead Sea of the West were 
not far from me. — Could time have gone backwards 
with me to patriarchal days, and was it Solomon in 
modern clothes who sat before me ? 

So cold was the evening and so chilly the interior 
of the theatre that the Prophet, like everybody else, 
was well wrapped up. Nothing in his attire denoted 
his rank, nor was there any attempt at dress among 
the members of his household. There was no display 
of silks and satins. Every one was plainly clad. 
Most of the ladies wore on the head what in the States 
is called a " Nubia M — a sort of knitted woollen scarf, 
with long ends to it. The men were mostly clad in 
homespun. As I afterwards learned, the policy of the 
Mormon leader is to discourage the wearing of any 
articles of attire not manufactured in the territory. 
His aim is to make his people independent of the outer 
world, and with that end in view he has established 
and owns cotton mills and woollen factories. The 
Gentile traders at Salt Lake take care to import novel- 
ties and fineries from New York ; but Brigham Young 
has a keen eye and a denunciatory voice for those who 
indulge in the pomps and vanities of fashion. He 
once preached a sermon against the use of crinoline. 



470 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

The language he used on that occasion, and the plain, 
strong, coarse phrases and allusions in which he 
indulged have become historical. He characterized 
the wearing of hoops as a nasty practice, and in 
denouncing it he used the nastiest language. 

No audience could have behaved better than did 
the one I saw at Salt Lake. There was no whistling 
in the gallery ; no cries of " Now then, catgut \" no 
stamping of feet, nor vacating seats before the down- 
fa]! of the curtain. The performers on the stage met 
with much applause and very deservedly so, for the 
amateurs were not far behind the professional stars in 
their knowledge of stage business. Every performer 
was well dressed for his part. The scenery was good, 
and there were no mishaps on the part of the stage 
carpenters. Evidently the rehearsals had been well 
attended to ; there was no laxity of management 
behind the curtain, and the voice of the prompter was 
not heard in the land. 

" Panem et circenses i" cried the old Romans. 
11 Corn and comedies I" cries Brigham Young. He 
desires that his people shall have food alike for their 
hunger and their laughter. Hence he disapproves of 
tragedies, and prefers that comedy and farce should 
constitute the chief performances at his playhouse. 
Mr. Irwin told me that there were two or three tragic 
parts he wished to play, but that Brigham Young 
opposed the pieces being put in rehearsal. Said Mr. 
Irwin, "Brigham is of opinion that there is grief 
enough in this world without having it in imitation 
on the stage/'' I subsequently learned that the Lady 
of Lyons and the Marble Heart were two very 
favourite dramas among the Mormons, and that the 
Prophet had no objection to plays in which the crime 



BEHIND TEE CURTAIN AT SALT LAKE. 471 

of adultery is represented as being severely punished, 
but that he preferred dramas wherein the passion of 
love is depicted, and the comic and sentimental 
elements well blended. Considering that Brigham 
Young " loves not wisely but two hundred well," 
— to use a joke belonging to poor Artemus — it 
is not incomprehensible that he should uphold the 
claims of Love to public appreciation. Perish the 
man who in Utah would decry the tender passion ! — 
" Chi dice mal d'amore, dice la falsita !" 

Digressing from my narrative of what I saw at the 
theatre on the evening of my first visit, it may not 
be out of place to refer to the position of the play- 
house among the institutions of Salt Lake. ■ The 
theatre is essentially a national concern. It enters 
into the general system of government — social, moral, 
and religious. Socially, because all classes visit 
it ; morally, because Brigham Young considers it the 
best substitute for amusements of a less harmless 
character ; and religiously, because its profits go to 
the support of what is called " The Church. " The 
performances are advertised from the pulpit, and 
attendance at the playhouse is preached to the 
people as a portion of their duty. The actresses 
are for the most part the wives and daughters of 
church dignitaries. Even the daughters of the Pro- 
phet himself occasionally assist in the representa- 
tions, and Mr. Hiram Claw son, on whom the manage- 
ment devolves, is a son-in-law of Brigham Young. 

Mr. Clawson was kind enough to take me over the 
theatre a few days after my arrival in the city. Well 
acquainted with some hundreds of theatres, I do not 
remember one in which the comfort of the actors is 
more studied than in the theatre at Salt Lake, nor 



472 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

one where the arrangements for the business of 
the stage have been more thoughtfully attended to. 
The wardrobes are extensive, clean, and commodious. 
There is a capital workshop for the tailors, and equally 
as good apartments for the dressmakers. The library 
is nicely arranged, free from dust, and well stocked 
with plays. The property-man has excellent accom- 
modation and a large stock of well-made properties. 
No dressing-rooms could be more convenient, nor any 
green-room better fitted for its purpose. 

Brigham Young is as careful of the comfort of his 
audiences as he is of that of his actors. The theatre was 
built under his inspection, and he has taken care that 
visitors shall not be incommoded. In all his arrange- 
ments the fact is apparent that he understands what 
so many managers in London and elsewhere do not 
comprehend- — that the auditorium of a theatre should 
be attractive simply for its qualifications as a 
place in which to sit at ease without being cramped, 
crushed, or annoyed, — that it should be the drawing- 
room to retire to after dinner. He understands also 
— and herein he is ahead of many other managers, and 
anticipates the theatre of the future — that the play- 
house should be a place for Paterfamilias, to which 
without apology he could fearlessly take all his kith 
and kin, not an institution depending for its success 
upon ministering to the tastes of fast young men, nor 
for its patronage on its advantages as an exhibition- 
room for marketable beauty. But a place to which 
human beings with head and brains can go, and feel 
that they are not degrading themselves by witnessing 
senseless trash, nor having their patience tested by 
listening to uneducated and unqualified performers. 

The Salt Lake City Theatre is open in winter and 



ADMISSION— SIX GLASS BOTTLES. 473 

closed in summer. If the season of the year admits of 
agricultural labours being attended to, Brigham Young 
requires his flock to work. If the weather be un genial, 
the shepherd allows his lambs to play. Better he thinks 
that they should laugh than moan; better be histrionic 
than hypochondriac. If they have no money with 
which to pay at the doors, they can take their flour or 
their dried peaches to the " tithing office " during the 
day, and barter them for tickets of admission to the 
theatre. At the tithing office, anything of any value 
will be accepted — eggs, apples, wool, cabbages, or 
feathers. During my stay in Salt Lake I remember 
a man obtaining entrance to the theatre for half a 
dozen glass bottles. Let it be borne in mind how 
many mountain tops those glass bottles had to be 
brought over before they arrived in the city, and it will 
be understood how they grew in value with every mile 
traversed. Should it be that a newly-arrived immi- 
grant wishes to visit the playhouse, that he be poor 
and have no resources, he may go to the tithing office 
and obtain a dozen coupons of admission by pledging 
a portion of his labour during the ensuing summer to 
assist in building the great temple, or by otherwise 
devoting himself to the service of the Church. 

Just as the people can visit the theatre when they 
have no labour to occupy their time, so the actors can 
learn new parts and study for the stage when they 
cannot carry on their ordinary occupations. I met an 
amateur tragedian who owned a saw-mill, and the best 
low comedian in the city was a blacksmith. The saw-mill 
tragedian — Mr. Bernard Snow — played Matthew Elmore 
in the drama of Love's Sacrifice, one evening during 
my stay. I have seen the part played much worse 
on the boards of a large theatre in London. In Great 



474 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Salt Lake City it is not thought to be derogatory to 
the highest and holiest lady in the land to play even a 
subsidiary part on the stage. Three of Brigham 
Young's daughters posed for the statues of the three 
Graces in the Marble Heart ; and I looked in at the 
theatre one morning when the daughter of an 
" apostle " was practising for the role of Columbine. 

My first experiences of the Mormon theatre were 
on a Saturday night. On the morning of Sunday 
Artemus and I determined on paying a visit to the 
great Tabernacle in the hope of hearing Brigham 
Young preach. As we strolled towards it, we met many 
Mormon families on their way to the same place. Every 
one was clad in garments of warm but coarse texture, 
and there was no display of finery. Haifa dozen wives 
of the same husband walked along lovingly together ; 
their children following after them, hand-in-haud. 

On the Mississippi River, far away up, just where 
the stream leaves the fields of Iowa to fertilize those 
of Missouri, stands a ruin on a bluff, the only ruin, 
worthy of being so called, I saw anywhere in the 
United States. It is that of the first temple of the 
Mormons, destroyed by fire in 1848. Driven from 
Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, and their lands taken pos- 
session of by a party of French socialists, led by M. 
Cabet, the Mormons planned the erection of a larger 
and far more magnificent temple in their new home at 
Salt Lake. Whether it will ever be completed is 
doubtful. In the state in which I saw it, it appeared 
as much of a ruin as its prototype at Nauvoo. Pend- 
ing its erection the services of the church are carried 
on in what is termed the Tabernacle — a long building 
with a semi-cylindrical roof, situated within a walled 
enclosure. Beside it is a singular structure called the 



TEE MORMON TABERNACLE. 4 75 

Bowery, consisting of a number of poles stuck in the 
ground, supporting a roof formed of branches of trees, 
and sheltering a vast space covered with settles and 
forms. Under the green leaves of the Bowery, with 
the sunbeams swooping down through their interstices, 
and the cool breezes from the Sea of Salt blowing in 
at the sides, the Mormons worship in the summer ; 
during winter they assemble in the Tabernacle. 

Snow underfoot and a bright blue sky overhead, 
Artemus and I found our way to the doors of the 
sacred edifice. On entering I noticed an organ to our 
left, and looking down the long tunnel-like interior, 
perceived the pulpit backed by a rostrum, on which 
were raised seats for the elders. The congregation 
came in slowly ; as they took their seats we had an 
opportunity of observing their faces and scanning their 
outward developments. There were very few who 
arrested attention by attractiveness of feature or intel- 
ligence of expression, — a single glance was enough to 
ascertain that none of them could boast of " blue 
blood/' noble birth, gentle nurture, or high intel- 
lectual culture. A similar assemblage might be seen 
at a Methodist meeting-house in a Lancashire manu- 
facturing town, or attending an open-air discourse in 
the neighbourhood of Whitechapel, with the exception 
that cleanliness reigned supreme, and that no one had 
ragged attire. 

The service commenced by the choir singing a 
hymn, accompanied by the organ and a small instru- 
mental band. The congregation preserved silence. 
After the hymn an elder came forward from among 
the group on the rostrum, advanced to the pulpit, or 
tribune, and prayed an extempore prayer. Then 
came more singing, more organ, and more band; fol- 



476 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

lowing on which the presiding elder rose and called 
on " Brother Sloan" to preach to the people. 

Brother Sloan advanced to the pnlpit. 

" What are you excited about ?" whispered Artemus. 
" Who is that preacher ?" 

" He ? — he's the very man who took my dollar at 
the door of the theatre last night, and who played in 
Paddy Miles' s Boy !" 



SCENERY OF SALT LAKE. 477 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

LOOKING DOWN UPON THE MORMONS. 

GREAT Salt Lake City has been described by- 
many recent travellers. Let me endeavour to 
picture it as seen by a travelling showman. The 
description shall be brief; the picture shall be 
sketchy. 

Main Street is the great thoroughfare. A traveller 
looking up it sees that the street gradually ascends 
towards the base of a high range of mountains. Some 
few hundred yards up the mountain range is a wooden 
building — that is the Mormon Arsenal; a few mOre 
hundred yards, and there is a flat ridge, forming what 
geologists term a " bench." Still some hundred yards 
higher up, and not by any means easily accessible, is 
a conical hill known as Ensign Peak. On the summit 
of this peak — according to Mormon history — the ghost 
of the founder of Mormonism, Joseph Smith, appeared 
to Brigham Young, and pointed out to him where he 
was to build the new temple; to this summit also 
Brigham Young is said to go up, like a modern Moses 
to an imitation Sinai, to receive revelations. 

To the " bench" below Ensign Peak I wandered 
some half a dozen times during my stay at Salt Lake. 
Let me suppose that I am standing on it now, and 
playing the part of a descriptive guide to a panoramic 



478 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

exhibition ; let me also suppose that the reader is 
beside me. 

We are standing in latitude 40 45' 44" N. and 
longitude 11 2° 6' 8" west of Greenwich. — It is as well 
to know exactly where we do stand in the world. 
Would you like to know how high we are up in it ? 
— somewhere about 4500 feet above the sea level. We 
are looking to the south; there is no reason to dread 
a cold blast from the north, for we are screened by a 
wall of mountains from three to four thousand feet in 
height. The mountains form a portion of the Wahsatch 
range, and you will observe that they extend round to 
the east on our left, rising in higher peaks and 
mantled in robes of snow. There are mountains in 
the distance to the south — the Traverse Mountains; 
and there is another high range — the Oquirrh — on our 
right. Beneath us is the valley of Salt Lake, and 
immediately at our feet, on rising ground, and at the 
northern end of the valley, is the Jerusalem 
of the new faith — the City of the Great Salt 
Lake. 

But where is the Lake? Streets and gardens are 
below us, beyond them are cultivated fields. Precisely 
so. It is a common mistake to suppose that the city 
is built along the water's edge, like our English 
Brighton beside the sea; or like Chicago, on the 
southern shore of Lake Michigan. Look beyond the 
city, and winding across the valley, you will see a line 
of light. That is the River Jordan, flowing from Lake 
Utah — the American Sea of Tiberias, to the Dead Sea 
of the West. You will observe that the Oquirrh range 
on our right, terminates abruptly, and that between it 
and the spur of the Wahsatch, which forms the wall 
behind us, there is a wide opening. Look in that 



WHISKY STREET. 479 

direction, and about fifteen miles from where we stand 
yon will see the Great Salt Lake. The mountains you 
dimly see rising in the middle of it are on Antelope 
Island. The lake is about fifty miles wide and one 
hundred miles long. 

Now let us look down upon the city. If you have 
travelled in classic lands, you will probably notice how 
much this city resembles some you have seen in the East; 
a few mosques here and there would make the resem- 
blance perfect. The houses, as you perceive, are of a 
uniform drab tint — shall we say mouse-colour? They 
are built of sun-dried, unburnt brick. Nearly every 
house is in a garden ; the streets are laid out rectan- 
gularly, and flowing through every street is a stream 
of bright fresh water. 

The wide thoroughfare immediately before us is 
Main Street — or " Whisky Street " as it is jokingly 
called, and as it was referred to in a sermon by 
Brigham Young, when he elegantly said — " The stink- 
ing lawyers lives down in Whisky Street, and for five 
dollars would attempt to make a lie into a truth/'' 
Main Street you perceive is very wide, and differs 
from the other streets in not having trees on each side, 
in the houses being larger and each house adjoin- 
ing the next, instead of having a garden space between. 
On the left of the road are telegraph posts, in the 
middle of it are many bullock- drays, and on the broad 
footpath Mormons and Gentiles pass each other on 
their way to business or pleasure. 

Nearest to where we stand and on the eastern side 
of Main Street is an enclosure within which is one 
large house and other smaller ones. That is the resi- 
dence of Brother Heber C. Kimball, one of the three 
Presidents of the Mormon Church. He is the most 



480 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

polygamous of Mormons, and keeps within that enclo- 
sure about ninety wives. In the pulpit he has called 
them his "cows/' and, regarding them from a zoological 
point of view, he divides them into classes and genera 
in separate houses, just as in a menagerie the feline 
races are separated from the ruminantia, and the deer 
are kept apart from the dogs. 

Beyond .Brother Kimball's house is a much larger 
enclosure containing many buildings, one of which has 
an imitation beehive on the top of it. The stone wall 
surrounding the enclosed space shuts in the residence, 
seraglio, and offices of President Brigham Young. On 
the next corner, proceeding down Main Street, is the 
home of the third President of the Church, and com- 
mander-in-chief of the saints militant, Brother Wells. 
Still further down is the telegraph-office ; beyond that 
some ; large stores occupied by Gentile traders ; and 
further still the Salt Lake House where travellers are 
entertained. 

Taking the other side of the thoroughfare we see 
the vast space within which are the foundations of 
the new temple. At the corner of the next street we 
notice a square dark building, containing the apart- 
ments of the Territorial Legislature, the Territorial 
Library, and other offices. That squat building 
beyond, with the gable roof to it, is the post-office ; 
and further down is a wooden store wherein the 
quartermaster of the United States' cavalry transacts 
his business. Then come some large, well-built stores 
occupied by Gentile traders, and a row of smaller 
shops stocked with provisions, articles of hardware, 
and all the thousand- and-one things which a store- 
keeper " out West" provides for the choice of his 
purchasers. 



Viewed from a distance. 




Salt Lake City is laid out in squares, each house standing on an acre 
and a quarter of ground, with a canal flowing in front of it. 



THE CITY FROM THE HEIGHTS BEHIND IT. 




The small building in front is an arsenal. To the right, in the mid- 
distance, is the River Jordan, which flows from Lake Utah to the Salt 
Lake. 



A CITY IN A GLANCE. 481 

Look down upon the whole scene and take it in at 
a glance. — No towers, no spires, no minarets, and no 
domes, except the tin one on the Court House. The 
city divided into squares, the houses what in England 
we would term "villa residences/' the garden round 
each house well planted with fruit-trees, the streets 
wide, the general appearance that of prosperity and 
comfort. 

Now raise the head and look round. Mountains 
seem to encircle you, except where the Salt Lake 
extends in dreary solitude. On another " bench," or 
step of the mountains away to your left, you may 
discern a flagstaff, attached to which waves the striped 
and starry banner of the United States. Around the 
flagstaff are huts, tents, and wooden houses. They con- 
stitute Camp Douglas, where the great guns of Uncle 
Sam are ranged in order, with their muzzles pointing 
towards the palace of the Mormon President, con- 
stantly informing Brigham Young with significant 
dumb-show, that though he is chief of the Mormons, 
he must be a law-abiding citizen of the American 
Union. 

We are looking at the scene in winter. The ground 
is white with snow, the trees leafless, and the moun- 
tain-peaks stern in their stately coldness and icy 
splendour ; but let the summer come and the flowers 
bloom ; let the sun shed a rose-tint on the mountains, 
a golden glow upon the fields, and this glorious valley 
will seem to him who looks upon it from where we 
stand to be a garden of enchantment — a glimpse of 
fairy land — a realization of Paradise, so fertile are the 
plains, so luxuriant the vegetation, so green the trees, 
so abundant the fruit, so bright the streams, so blue 
the sky, and so magnificent the scenery ! 

I 1 



482 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

And this is the Canaan which the Mormons found ! 
No wonder they think that inspiration discovered the 
place, and that Providence led them across the wilder- 
ness to its happy valleys ; no wonder that they in 
their simplicity believe their spiritual rulers, who tell 
them that an angel came to Brigham Young in the 
night and revealed to him the land wherein to dwell, 
and the spot whereon to build a temple. Whoever 
will take the trouble to investigate will find that as 
Joshua sent out the spies from Shittim to the land 
where Rahab dwelt, so Brigham Young was discreet 
enough to send explorers from Nauvoo to the home of 
the Indian Utes in the valley of the Great Salt Lake 
of Utah. 

The Mormons will tell you that an angel had to do 
with the discovery of the Book of Mormon. Unfor- 
tunately for them there are persons still living who 
know the facts of its having been written by an 
eccentric clergyman named Spalding, and left in a 
Pittsburgh printing-office. The " saints" will also 
assure you that an angel revealed Utah, and that 
another angel proclaimed the privilege of polygamy. 
If you think the statements to be inconsistent with 
what you know of the natural history of angels, they 
will try to annihilate your objections at one blow by 
asking you what but a miracle could have made them 
the community they are, and what but a miracle 
could have rendered the valley of Salt Lake the Eden 
that it is? 

Both questions admit of easy replies. As Napoleon 
III. has been to modern France, so has Brigham 
Young been to the Mormon community. In the 
shrewdness, cleverness, and strong will of one man is 
the miracle of Mormon prosperity. In the natural 



TEE PARADISE OF POLYGAMY, 483 

fertility of the soil, the advantages of climate and of 
situation is the miracle of the flourishing city. Not 
one whit more miraculous in its growth than Chicago, 
whose immense warehouses are built where fifty years 
ago the prairie grass grew ; not one jot more mar- 
vellous in its history than that of the beautiful metro- 
polis of California; not one touch more prodigious 
are its antecedents than are those of the great city of 
Melbourne, at the other end of the world, whose 
palatial buildings stand on ground for which John 
Batman traded with the Australian blacks no longer 
ago than 1835, 

A city at one end of a valley surrounded by moun- 
tains — a city four thousand feet above the level of 
the sea — the streets broad and lined with acacia trees 
— the houses of unburnt clay, each nestling in an 
orchard where the peach ripens and apples hang thick 
upon the boughs — fields away beyond the streets, 
luxuriant with crops of golden maize — innumerable 
streams of sparkling water, and over all a cloudless, 
sunlit sky. Shut your eyes, paint the picture with 
your imagination, and you see where the Latter-day 
Saints dwell in their sequestered American Zion. 

Externally this city beside the Dead Sea of the 
West is fair and fascinating. Does it want a 
symbol ? Pass to the Dead Sea of Asia, and find on 
its shores one of those apples so tempting in their out- 
ward beauty — so full of dust and unsavouriness within. 



II 3 



484 TEE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

PRISONERS IN SALT LAKE CITY. 

" A/'OU can many your grandmother here, that's 

J- one advantage." 

So spoke Mr. W , Gentile storekeeper, and real 

good fellow of Salt Lake City. 

" Surely you do not mean to say that any Mormon 
would contract such a marriage ?" 

" Well, I guess a Mormon would marry anything 
that wore a petticoat/' replied Mr. W. " At any rate 
that holy saint who has just passed out along with 
Mr. Stenhouse has three wives. He has married his 
first wife's daughter and his first wife's mother. He 
wished to have all the family home with him, so he 
got ' sealed' to the grandmother, the mother, and the 
daughter, and is husband to them all." 

Artemus listened with a grave face to this state- 
ment, doubting, as I did, its truth. We questioned 
our informant more closely, and were assured that he 
had told us facts. Then we sought Mrs. Townsend, 
and on addressing inquiries to her, became satisfied 
that we had not been misinformed. With some coax- 
ing we induced her to talk on the subject of polygamy. 
She found much to say in its favour, finishing up by 
putting the question : 

"Why should not a man be able to love two 
wives ?" 



A LADTS FAITH. 485 

Artemus replied that lie suspected the heart had 
something to do with loving, and among his acquain- 
tance he did not know a man who had two hearts. 

" God loves all/' she naively remarked. 

We ventured to observe that man is not a god. 

" But man is a part of God/' she continued. " And 
when a man belongs to the Church the image of God 
is in him. He loses his selfishness, becomes like God, 
and can love many. Those to whom he is sealed on 
earth will be his family in heaven/' 

Our interesting conversation was brought to a close 
suddenly, by Mr. Hiram Clawson coming in to say 
that President Young was willing to forgive Artemus 
for having satirized the Mormons, and to consent to 
his being introduced ; that he was waiting in his office, 
and that it would be advisable to lose no time in calling 
upon him. 

A long wall of rubble masonry, strengthened here 
and there with circular buttresses or towers ; inside 
the wall a large house, with a stone lion in front of it, 
next to that a small office, next to that a larger one, 
and beyond that again a large building with a bee- 
hive on top of it. Such is the outward appearance of 
the palace of Brigham Young. In the house with the 
bee-hive he boards, lodges, and finds employment for 
his many wives ; in the house with the lion to it he 
lives with her he loves best for the time. In the 
smaller of the two offices he receives visitors, and 
transacts business with the outer world. 

Ridicule is almost too long a lance for fanaticism 
to parry successfully. Brigham Young, conscious of 
this fact, smarting under the wounds Artemus had 
already inflicted, and desirous of getting him to lay 
the lance in rest for the future, was peculiarly affable, 



4 86 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

gracious, and conversational. Artemus told him his 
object in coming to Salt Lake was simply to deliver 
his lecture as he had done elsewhere, and to engage 
the theatre for the purpose by paying rent for it, just 
as he would do with any other theatre or public hall. 
Brigham took some time to consider, and finally de- 
cided that he preferred to share the receipts rather 
than let the house ; or, that perhaps he would give the 
use of it gratuitously. 

Brigham can be gracious, bland, and soft-spoken ; 
but the impression he produces is not that of his 
being a man of large heart and strong sympathy. 
Volition, not feeling ; persistency of purpose, not con- 
ciliative suavity, intense self-respect, but little or no 
benignity, are the characteristics which declare them- 
selves in those cold light-grey eyes, and those hard, 
firmly set lips. Some American has written of him 
that he has no u magnetism." If by that is meant 
that he does not cause you to love him at first sight, I 
understand the phrase ; but it surely cannot mean that 
he does not impress a stranger, nor that he fails to 
leave on the mind of whoever has been in his company 
the feeling of having talked with a remarkable man. 

It may be asked how is it if Brigham does not 
cause love at first sight, that he has so many wives ? 
The answer is simple : The ladies of Utah love him as 
being the supreme head of their Church. I believe 
that in the first instance — no matter what phase it 
may have afterwards assumed — that the love of each 
wife was one of veneration, if not of adoration. The 
Mormon faith teaches that the church on earth is but 
a faint counterpart of what will be the social condition 
in heaven. According to the position of a man in the 
Church here, so will be his standing in the Church 



A MORMON AND EIS MONEY. 487 

above ; and that all who belong to him in this world, 
if they maintain their allegiance, will share with him 
in whatever he may enjoy hereafter. Being president 
in this life, Brigham will be a god in the life to come. 
Jnst as Jupiter, in addition to Juno, could pay atten- 
tion to Semele, Maia, Dione, Mnemosyne, and Latona, 
so Mr. Young is to be surrounded with sisters Lucy, 
Clara, Amelia, Zina, Margaret, and Eliza. 

But where are those wives now, and how do they 
spend their time ? 

These were the questions which both Artemus and 
I wished to put to the Mormon president, but polite- 
ness forbade. More than once we wandered round 
the outside of the palace, and endeavoured to get 
some glimpse of the ladies of the household. Subse- 
quently we became introduced to many of them ; but 
all that we could learn during the first few days of 
our stay was that Brigham had more than forty wives 
living in the Bee House, that they each had apart- 
ments similarly fitted up and furnished alike ; that 
they were all compelled to be industrious, and that 
whatever articles they made more than were required 
for use on the premises were sold for the benefit of 
the Church. 

That word " Church " perplexed us, — its precise 
signification took us some time to understand. We 
knew that the people paid a tenth of everything for 
the support of the " Church ;" we were told that the 
theatre was conducted for the benefit of the " Church," 
and we were led to believe that all the riches of Utah 
converged in ceaselessly-flowing streams towards the 
great ocean of the kt Church." Yet the bishops were 
all working men — carpenters, tinkers, and such like ; 
the Tabernacle was anything but a gorgeous edifice, 



488 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

and the building of the new temple was progressing 
very slowly. After a time we became enlightened. 
By the term ce Church " is meant, Brigham Young. 
We found that he represents the " Church " finan- 
cially as well as spiritually; and that being the foun- 
tain of all goodness, he also reserves to himself the 
right of being the reservoir of all riches. We were 
told that his wealth is enormous ; that he invests his 
money in England and in France ; that he is a specu- 
lator in European stocks, and that he shrewdly per- 
ceives how little difference there is between the two 
words — Mormon and Mammon. 

" When one of these people becomes rich and dis- 
contented with his life here, I suppose he can manage 
to get away?" said I, inquiringly, to an acquaintance 
in the city. 

" He can get away," was the reply, " but he can't 
take his money. Brigham is the only banker, all 
have to bank with him ; and if they want to draw out 
their money, he must know what they are going to do 
with it." 

" Some of the Mormon traders must be very 
wealthy ?" I remarked. 

" Yes ; but when they are getting too rich, Brigham 
interferes and sends them on a mission to go and 
convert the heathen ten thousand miles away." 

" Do they take their money with them ?" 

" No more of it than he allows. Perhaps they will 
never come back; if so the ' Church 3 falls into luck." 

" But their wives — do they take them with them ?" 

" Certainly not. The Church assigns them over to 
some of the brethren to be cherished during the hus- 
band's absence. Sometimes the Church wants to 
take care of them, and finds a mission for the husband 



QUININE AND CALOMEL. 489 

as far off as New Zealand, or in some of the islands 
where there are healthy cannibals." 

Our intention on arriving in Salt Lake City was to 
stay for a few days only ; unfortunately Artemus be- 
came seriously ill, his lecture had to be postponed, 
and our visit was prolonged to many weeks. 

Never shall I forget those weeks of anxiety and 
suspense. When my friend became indisposed I 
endeavoured to procure medical advice. The only 
doctor I could hear of in the city was a botanical one, 
in whose quackery I had no confidence. 

" The saints get cured by laying on of hands," said 
a gentleman to whom I applied for aid. I had no 
faith in such mode of treatment. My belief was in 
quinine and calomel, if I could get them. There was 
a drug-shop just below the Salt Lake House. I went 
there, and asked for quinine. None was to be had, 
nor had the proprietor any calomel; some one had 
bought the calomel bottle and taken it to the Ban- 
nack mines. Artemus showed symptoms of typhoid 
fever, and the case was urgent. I remembered the 
cavalry camp up in the mountains, and knew that it 
had a military doctor. I rode to the camp without 
delay. Dr. Williamson understood the condition of 
the patient immediately, and took medicine with him 
in starting for the city. On our way I told him that 
I had a sore throat. 

" Take quinine," said he ; " the altitude of this city 
affects the atmosphere. The rarefied air and the cold 
weather bring about a fever ; sore throat is one of the 
first symptoms. Quinine is the thing to stop it ; take 
some, or you will be down beside Mr. Ward." 

Quinine and I became very friendly. 

Artemus grew worse. Dr. Williamson looked grave. 



490 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Leaving the bedside of his patient one evening, he said 
to me, " When that delirium quits him you had better 
say a few words to him about how he wishes to dispose 
of his affairs." 

The first wife of any Mormon husband who had 
just married his twenty-second bride was not more 
wretched than I was when the doctor had left. In 
the rear of the room which we inhabited was a sort of 
yard devoted to boxes and old lumber. In it was a 
long box which had been pointed out to me as being 
" Jake Gooding's coffin/'' I was told that Jake 
Gooding had been an important personage in con- 
nexion with the stage company, that he had died on 
the road, and that his body had been brought on in this 
roughly- constructed shell. More than once before I 
had looked at it in dreary anticipation, and now I 
made up my mind that it would have to be used for 
poor Artemus. 

What was I to do with the body ? I could not com- 
mit it to the earth in Salt Lake City, and go home 
without it. Could I take it on with me, slung be- 
neath the coach? 

Leaving the patient tossing his arms about wildly 
and muttering incoherent nonsense, I sought Mr. 
Stein, the agent of the Overland Stage Company, 
found him at his office, told him my distress,, and re- 
quested to know in what way, should occasion require 
it, I could transport the remains of the Genial Show- 
man to the Missouri river. 

" We could not send them on by the stage," replied 
Mr. Stein. " The last time we sent on the body of 
one of our people, the wolves smelt it and attacked 
the mules. Our orders are never to send on ano- 
ther ' 



SAMARITAN MORMONS. 491 

Miserable before, I was doubly miserable now. As 
I walked out of the stage-office into the deep snow, 
saw the white spectre-like mountains glaring at me on 
all sides, and remembered that between me and civili- 
zation were the barriers of the Rocky Mountains and 
a thousand miles of dreary desert and desolate plain, 
I felt the completeness of my isolation. I was the 
most forlorn, sad-hearted man in all Utah. I looked 
in at Artemus; he was still muttering, and Mrs. 
Battershall, the old English nurse whom we had been 
fortunate enough to find to attend upon him, shook 
her head dolefully as I reclosed the door and mecha- 
nically strayed into the street, to brood moodily amidst 
the snow. 

About four o'clock in the morning I noticed a 
favourable change in the patient. About seven Dr. 
Williamson came on horseback. 

The doctor's face brightened as he stood by the 
bedside. " He's better \" said he ; " we shall have to 
take care of him, and nurse him. He must not cheat 
us out of that lecture/' 

Careful was the nursing and worthy of all praise 
the nurses. The old woman we had engaged attended 
to her duties in a motherly manner; Mrs. Townsend, 
our Mormon landlady, was the very soul of human 
kindness ; and there was a strong, stout-limbed, burly 
farmer of Sacramento, by name Jerome Davis, who 
had been our companion for a short portion of our 
journey, and who, having taken a fancy to Artemus, 
became the gentlest and most devoted of nurses. No 
sister could have been more kindly in manner, nor the 
most affectionate of brothers more assiduous in his 
attention. Rough-looking and ponderous in his out- 
ward appearance, the Sacramento farmer had the heart 



492 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

of a woman, and a sympathetic manner indicative of 
the tenderest feeling. 

Let me also add that the Mormons were Samaritans 
to Artenms. Brigham Young commissioned Mr. Sten- 
house to call frequently, and sent presents of dried 
fruit and wine from his private stores. As the patient 
grew better and became able to receive company, we 
had visits from many of the celebrities of Utah. Late 
one evening came a strange-looking personage, wearing 
large jack-boots and leathern leggings, having a thick 
muffler round his neck, his face very red and the hair 
at the back of his head plaited and tied up with a 
piece of black riband. He introduced himself as Mr. 
Porter Rockwell, sat down by the bedside, and con- 
versed pleasantly for half an hour. While he was 
talking I noticed Artemus surveying him carefully. 
When he left the room Artemus said — 

" I am glad you were here. Did you see if he had 
any pistols?" 

I replied that I thought the gentleman was armed. 

" He's the great Destroying Angel," continued 
Artemus ; " the chief of the gang who used to put 
people out of the way when Brigham wished them to 
be got rid of. They say that he has shot eighteen 
men at least. He's a cheerful angel to call on a sick 
man ! Did you see he wanted to hand me my physic ? 
— No, don't you give it me ; throw it away ! He may 
have put some poison in it." 

Ugly as are the stories told about Mr. Rockwell, no 
man could have expressed himself more kindly, nor 
have exerted himself more to enliven an invalid by 
pleasant talk and ludicrous anecdotes. During our 
stay in Salt Lake I had an opportunity of meeting 
Mr. Bill Hickman, another of the small party of gen- 



DESTROYING ANGELS. 493 

tlemen who, according to Gentile report, constituted 
the Danite Band, or secret corps of Destroying Angels, 
■whose business it was to silence the enemies of the 
Church. Neither Mr. Hickman nor Mr. Rockwell 
looked like a Bravo of Venice. Neither of them wore 
a long cloak, nor a broad-brim cap, nor spoke in a 
deep voice, nor was often seen before breakfast 
sharpening his stiletto on a doorstep. Both have 
had some rough jobs to do in their time, or else they 
are the most maligned men in Utah ; but for all that, 
they are good churchmen, and just the sort of gentle- 
men you would offer cigars to and sit down with — at 
a proper distance — while they told you a few good 
stories of how they had roughed it in the wilderness. 

Gradually Artemus grew stronger. General Connor 
sent him champagne, and Brigham Young contributed 
some home-made wine of very pleasant flavour. The 
Mormon ladies brought offerings of eggs, dried peaches, 
jellies, jams, and sweetmeats innumerable; but the 
great restorative — the food which the weak stomach 
most thoroughly enjoyed — was discovered by the 
kindly Californian farmer, who, in ransacking a neigh- 
bouring draper's store, had found amongst the calicoes 
and stuff dresses a dozen cans of oysters brought from 
Baltimore — a two thousand mile journey over the 
Rocky Mountains. 

" Get out the bills for the lecture," said Artemus, 
after the first meal of stewed oysters ; " see Mr. 
Clawson, and arrange for the date. The show is safe 
enough, now we've got an oyster basis." 



494 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AMONG THE LADIES OF SALT LAKE. 

" ~\/"OU should go to-night and hear the low- comedy 

A bishop/' said Captain U . 

We had heard much of Bishop Woolley, and had 
been assured that the Mormon Church owned no 
ecclesiastic more amusing. He was bishop of the 
Thirteenth Ward. 

With wisdom characteristic of the sagacity of 
Brigham Young, Salt Lake City is subdivided into 
wards. At the time of our visit these wards were 
twenty-one in number. Each ward is about forty 
rods square, has its own fence around it, its own hall 
for preaching, and its own bishop. 

The duties of a Salt Lake bishop consist in attend- 
ing to the temporal as well as the spiritual necessities 
of the inhabitants of his ward. He has to know 
every one individually ; to see how each acts up to 
his faith, and how far the poorer ones are able to 
sustain themselves. Some of these are recent 
immigrants who have not acquired riches. In winter 
they will want flour for bread and wood for firing. 
The bishop has to see that their wants are supplied. 
If any are unwell he must use the influences of the 
Church in curing them ; if any are in trouble he must 
relieve them if he can. The heaven that he pictures 






THE LOW-COMEDY BISHOP. 495 

in his Sunday sermon he must endeavour to anticipate 
in his week-day work. 

Besides being careful of his flock, the bishop must 
attend to his own temporal welfare. He must look 
after his corn-mill, keep his waggons in good repair, 
see that his farm is in flourishing condition, that his 
carpentry- work is not neglected, nor his smithy with- 
out the sound of the hammer. As a matter of course 
he finds a felt cap to be more convenient than a 
mitre, and a two-foot rule more handy than a 
crozier. 

Travellers may think as they please about Brigham 
Young ; but whatever faults he may possess, he must be 
allowed by all to be a great organizer. The poorest man 
in Salt Lake is a son of the Church, to whom the bishop 
must act as a father. Through the bishop there is a 
ready avenue to the president. Every unit in the 
Mormon integer feels that he is a part of the great 
whole — that his church and he are one. Churches 
elsewhere would be better were they as Utilita- 
rian. 

With some of our military friends leading the way, 
we went on Sunday evening to hear the " low-comedy 
bishop." His church, or rather great school-room, was 
crowded. The congregation was chiefly composed of 
females. The bishop had a small desk to preach from. 
To the left of it were seats specially reserved for 
occasional visitors. And as Salt Lake City was just 
then very full of travellers and Gentiles, those seats 
were pretty well filled. 

Bishop Woolley was dressed in plain homespun, 
with nothing about him to denote episcopal rank. A 
hymn was being sung as we entered. When we took 
our seats the bishop turned his face towards us and 



496 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

winked. He had a broad face, thick lips, and mirth- 
ful eyes. 

The discourse was an exhortation rather than a 
sermon. It was mainly addressed to the younger 
portion of the female congregation. 

Said the bishop — c< Our city is very full of Gentiles. 
They talk to you, and you will talk with them. I 
cannot help your talking to them. I guess talking is 
pretty safe if you keep a yard of daylight between 
your lips and their ears. You ask me how you are to 
behave to them. Well, I have told you before. I 
tell you again. Treat them courteously, treat them 
kindly, but not lovingly — mind that ! If you do, you 
know what will happen. It will be no use your 
coming to me with a baby in your arms, and asking 
me what you are to do then !" 

Bishop Woolley looked threateningly stern at the 
young ladies as he spoke. Then, turning round, he 
closed his left eye at the group of Gentiles among 
which Artemus and I sat, smiled knowingly, and told 
us by gesture as plainly as if he had spoken loudly, 
that he thought he had done something towards 
destroying the prospects of any gay Lothario 
among us. 

In the proneness of the young ladies of Utah to 
listen to the seductive voice of a fascinating young 
Gentile is one of Brigham Young's great sources of 
tribulation. The youthful belles of Salt Lake are 
not disposed to regard the soldiers of Camp Douglas 
with that aversion and contempt the Mormon Presi- 
dent would like to see them manifest ; and the soldiers 
are not inclined merely to flirt with the daughters of 
the Saints. In many instances they take them off 
to the camp and marry them. In other instances 



BRIGHAM YOUNG'S PALACE. 



On the extreme left of this block of buildings is " Zion House," in 
which Brigham Young's wives reside — all except the favourite, who lives 
with the Prophet in the large middle house. The building with a tower, on 
the right, is a school exclusively for Brigham Young's children. 



. BRIGHAM YOUNG IN THE BOSOM OF HTS FAMILY. 



The above was sketched by Artemus Ward from recollection. It is 
probably very like the truth, and certainly does not give one an idea of do- 



AHE TEE MORMON LADIES CONTENTED ? 497 

a Mormon wife, discontented with being married to a 
man whose wives are numerous, will charitably resign 
her share of his attentions in favour of her " sisters/" 
and betake herself to the care of the military, trust- 
ing to finding in some son of Mars a husband with 
an undivided heart. Nothing vexes poor Brigham 
more than this defection of the female members of 
his flock, and the predatory raids on the sisterhood of 
Utah made by the soldiers of the United States. He 
stated during the time of our visit that he had no 
objection to see the Stars and Stripes waving from an 
encampment overlooking the city, provided the military 
gentlemen would abstain from making love to the 
daughters of the Church. It troubles Mr. Young to 
lose property so valuable as pretty young women, and 
it annoys him still more that any Mormon girl should 
bring scandal on her faith by allying herself with an 
anathematized Gentile. 

Are the Mormon ladies contented ? Not once nor 
twice, but a thousand times over were Artemus and I 
asked that question on our return from Utah. I 
know of none better able to answer the question than 
the officers of Camp Douglas. They will tell you 
how many are the applications to them from Mormon 
wives asking for protection and safe conduct out of 
the territory ; they will tell you how many daughters 
of Mormons, dreading the future if remaining in the 
faith, flee to the military settlement as their best 
means of escape. I applied to the wife of an officer 
for information. She had resided some time at the 
camp, had been much in the city, and her accomplish- 
ments and beauty had caused her to make many 
acquaintances. I asked her what her experiences of 

K K 



498 TEE GENIAL 8E0W2IAN. 

the Mormon women were, and whether they were 
thoroughly contented with their position. 

" Indeed not/' she replied. " The more fanatical 
train themselves to obedience and contentment, the 
timid ones are afraid to say that they are unhappy, 
and the last new favourites are very well disposed to 
be pleased ; but I know many who are very miserable 
and who would be glad to get away. They are afraid 
to disclose their unhappiness to strangers, and I believe 
that they are punished if they are known to do so." 

Yet, as these pages go to press, a petition is pre- 
sented to the National Legislature at Washington, 
signed by three thousand ladies of Utah, and — pray- 
ing that the institution of polygamy may be allowed 
to continue. This petition would have some weight 
were it not that in every large religious community 
there are a certain number of enthusiasts slightly 
tinged with monomania, and were it not that a Mormon 
lady is not a free agent, but must do as her lord de- 
sires. The Church can say, " Sign that paper V 3 and 
the wives of bishops and apostles, whom faith has 
assured of future bliss if they obey their husbands, 
will sign meekly in obedience to the mandate. 

As a contrast to the memorial of the ladies of Utah 
to Congress, let me record the facts that in the autumn 
of 1864 two companies of soldiers who left the 
Mormon territory for California took with them twenty- 
five wives escaped from the households of the lc saints f 
but in 1865 — according to the authority of Mr. Bowles, 
who accompanied the present Speaker of the House 
of Representatives to Utah Territory, — there were more 
than fifty women in Camp Douglas who had fled from 
the town for protection, or who had been induced to 
leave " unhappy homes and fractional husbands." In 



LADY-STEALING SOLDIERS. 499 

his letters from Salt Lake to the Springfield Republican, 
Mr. Bowles says — " Only to-day a man with three 
daughters living in the city applied to Colonel George 
for leave to move up to the camp for a residence, in 
order, as he said, to save his children from polygamy, 
into which the bishops and elders of the Church were 
urging them." 

It has cost the Church much money to bring many 
of those young ladies across the plains. They are 
valuable goods and chattels. Besides, according to 
ecclesiastical decrees, the Church has the first right to 
make a selection from the number, and the harems of 
the priestly dignitaries are entitled to be replenished 
before the right to choose passes to the secular brethren. 
That any presumptuous Gentile should interfere is 
therefore sacrilege, and in the days when Destroying 
Angels were free to roam it would never have been 
permitted. If Brigham could annihilate those lady- 
stealing soldiers he would do so, and his army of 
volunteers is large. Every Mormon is trained to use 
a musket. Brother Wells is head of the war depart- 
ment of the saints, and the Prophet's son, Joseph 
Young, who is also in command, looks a lusty and a 
doughty warrior. They will have to fight some day. 
Said Major Gallagher to me at Camp Douglas — 
" We have some guns up here in the camp that would 
knock old Brigham's house about his ears in no time. 
He knows it, and he knows the General would like to 
try their range. If he didn't know it, there would be 
an outbreak some fine morning." 

Artemus had recovered from his illness, and was 
desirous of seeing life in Salt Lake. We were dis- 
cussing the best means of seeing it when we received 
an invitation to The Apostles 3 Ball. 

K K 2 



500 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Social Hall is the Willis's Rooms of Salt Lake City. 
The ball -was to be given there ; Brigham Young was 
to be present, and all the apostles were to dance. 
An invitation to so great a treat was not to be 
lightly regarded. To go was a duty. Down 
with the man who would not tread the steps of an 
apostle ! 

Dancing Dervishes we know of — King David is re- 
corded to have danced ; but fancy Mahomet and the 
Holy Ones of Islam dancing ! Fancy Confucius or 
Buddha sporting the fantastic toe ! Yet in Salt Lake 
City the " saints " dance, the bishops chassez and turn 
partners, the apostles excel in the ladies' chain, and 
Brigham Young understands the business of the ball- 
room as if he were a Baron Nathan, or a " M.C. ,J at 
Almack's in the days of its glory. 

The Head of the Church introduced Artemus to the 
company generally from an elevation at the end of the 
hall. Then came the introduction to a dozen of 
Brigham's wives, who were presented separately as 
" Sister Jane/' " Sister Eliza," " Sister Zina," and so 
on; then there were the presentations to the wives of 
the prophet's sons, and those of his son-in-law, Mr. 
Clawson. The wives of the apostles followed in due 
course. The ball opened with a quadrille, in which 
Brigham Young acquitted himself with stately splen- 
dour, as became his position. The ladies were all 
nicely dressed, not in expensive silks and satins, but 
most of them in muslins, very tastefully made up. 
There were no circular dances. Quadrilles and cotillons 
are believed by the Mormons to be conducive to holi- 
ness, but the waltz is supposed to cause a lapse from 
the true faith. 

Two of the Prophet's wives were very pretty ; and 



" MUCH-MARRIED' ' MORMOMS. 50 1 

some of his daughters would have graced with their 
good looks a London ball-room. One part of the 
arrangement was very characteristic — there were 
many more ladies than gentlemen, and an apostle 
could conveniently form top, bottom, and side couples 
out of the circle of ladies belonging to his own esta- 
blishment, to each of which ladies he had given his 
hand and a decimal portion of his heart. 

We were invited to another ball at a private house, 
where there were thirty-nine ladies and seven gen- 
tlemen only. During the evening I had ample oppor- 
tunity of studying female character among the Mormon 
community. I came to the conclusion that the young 
ladies were not very well educated ; that they were like 
children in their docility ; and that if a dozen young 
Gentile gentlemen had driven sleighs up to the door, 
joined the company for an hour, and then proposed 
that a dozen of the young ladies should select partners 
and elope from Utah that very night, there would have 
been no difficulty in effecting a satisfactory arrange- 
ment. 

Artemus and I were anxious to see the home-life of 
a Mormon family. We received three or four very 
kindly invitations ; were introduced to the wives of 
Mormons who were '/much married/'' and on two or 
three occasions took tea with the mothers and children 
as though we were familiar acquaintances. I must 
candidly admit that the homes of those we visited 
appeared to be happy ones ; that in every instance we 
found all the external indications of domestic comfort ; 
and that two houses were especially noticeable for the 
elegance of their internal arrangements. One was 
that of a gentleman who formerly lived at Bayswater, 
in London, who had settled in business at Salt Lake; 



502 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

was married to three wives ; had a piano which he had 
brought all the way from London, across the Rocky 
Mount ains, and furniture imported from Paris. His 
three wives waited upon us during the evening, and 
exhibited amiable rivalry in trying who could be most 
courteously attentive. Few of the Mormons have 
more than three or four wives. We were told of one 
singularly-constructed household, wherein there was 
contentment all the year round except during one 
month — the head of the family was married to thirty 
helpmates, and there was a fight among the ladies 
every February. 

Going to balls and private parties was very good 
advertising for the lecture Artemus was about to de- 
liver. Brigham Young did his best to render the 
lecture a success, and the Mormon ladies were anxious 
to hear a man who was reported to have said 
naughty things about manners and customs at Salt 
Lake. 

On Monday evening, February 8, 1864, Artemus 
told his story of The Babes in the Wood at the theatre. 
There was a large audience, but the price of admis- 
sion was low, and many of the chief saints were 
admitted free. The receipts amounted to no more 
than four hundred and ninety dollars. The Prophet 
seemed to appreciate the lecture thoroughly, and the 
more intelligent of the audience took the jokes with 
hilarious satisfaction; but in the pit there were many 
faces — especially among the females — which by their 
stolid seriousness plainly indicated that the fun was 
foreign to the listener, and that Salt Lake City -would 
not be Paradise to a professional joker. 

With the delivery of the lecture, and what we had 
seen of Mormon life, our mission was accomplished. 



FUTURE OF MOBMONISM. 503 

We prolonged our stay a few days for Artenms to 
gain strength for the long journey before us, and then 
took the coach for our trip over the mountains to 
Denver, in Colorado, and thence across the plains to 
the Missouri. As the coach ascended to the mouth of 
the rocky pass by which we were to leave the beautiful 
valley, I struck a balance-sheet in my mind of the 
state of affairs in Mormondom. 

On the credit side of my balance-sheet I placed 
seeming prosperity — no poverty, no gambling, no in- 
temperance, no public resorts of infamy, no beggars to 
importune, no street-walkers to annoy. 

On the debit side I placed woman a slave, and not 
an equal partner; a community subject to the will of 
one man ; a religion known by its more intelligent 
followers to have been founded on a fraud, and by its 
less intelligent regarded with all-believing fanaticism ; 
a creed based on sensual enjoyment ; a people without 
culture ; a city without booksellers, and a living body 
without a soul. 

My Mormon acquaintances in Salt Lake may 
demur to the part of an accountant being played by a 
showman. — I demur to the role of a " saint " being 
enacted by men who believe holiness on earth to be 
best exemplified by keeping a harem, and whose ideal 
of heaven is one vast and eternal seraglio. 

But the end is not far distant. The Mormons form 
a sect whose development has arisen from " the law of 
natural selection/'' They are children of the plains 
and of the wilderness ; and as the wilderness becomes 
cultivated, and the song of civilization is written on 
the music- staff of iron rails ruled across the plains, the 
disciples of Joseph Smith and the followers of Brig- 
ham Young will cease to be — their raison d'etre will 



5o 4 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

have passed away, and they must perforce become com- 
paratively as scarce as Quakers are at present in Phila- 
delphia, and a community as restricted as the. Shakers 
of Mount Lebanon. Even now the Bills before the 
National Legislature at Washington are comprehensive 
enough to sweep away polygamy in Utah if they once 
pass into law. It is on the cards that Brigham Young 
may call out his militia and give arms to his Indian 
allies, but his shrewdness will probably lead him to 
calculate how large a military force the United States 
could pour into Salt Lake from both ends of the 
Pacific Railway. 

Bumour points to the border-line of Arizona and 
Mexico as the site to which the Mormon Chief may 
remove his head-quarters. Another report is, that he 
is in negotiation for the purchase of one of the 
Hawaiian Islands, where he could have water all 
round him, and be far from railways, telegraphs, 
soldiers, travellers, and all other nuisances. 



, 



THE INITIAL FOB A SHOWMAN. 505 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE SHOW OPENS IN NEW YORK. 

" T THINK I ought to go back to my B." 

1 " Who is she V I asked. 

" I mean the B in my proper name," replied 
Artemus, in a meditative manner, as we rode across 
the plains of Colorado homewards. He had been 
silent for more than an hour, and, as I thought, 
asleep. What he meant by his " B," I failed to un- 
derstand at the moment. 

" Artemus Ward/' he continued, " is a very good 
name for newspaper- work and books ; but I must go 
back to my old ' Charles Browne ' to be a showman. 
All good showmen begin with a f B.' There's Barnum 
and Boueicault, Beecher and Bennett, Booth, Burton, 
and Bateman." 

" What about Sothern ?" I asked. " You said the 
other day that you thought him to be a good showman/'' 

"Well, he can't get on till he's got his B. That's 
why he's gone over to join Buckstone." 

I endeavoured to overthrow his theory by mention- 
ing the name of Albert Smith, of whom Artemus had 
read much, and whose manner of conducting a show 
he was very desirous to imitate. He laughed, and 
reminded me that Albert Smith got in his "B" by 
making " Mont Blanc " the subject of his entertain- 



506 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

ment. " Then make yours f Brigham Young/ " said I. 
We discussed for a whole day the manner in which 
the show should be organized in New York,, and the 
list of subjects to be selected for panoramic illustra- 
tion. 

Our discussion was brought to a close in the even- 
ing by arriving at Beauvais Ranch, and coming to a 
halt amidst an encampment of Sioux Indians. The 
sight was a novel one to both of us, for the Indians 
numbered more than two thousand, were clad in full 
Indian costume, and were disposed in picturesque 
groups over the plain. 

Through Nebraska to Kansas, with glimpses on the 
way of more Indians, of the indigo-colour water of the 
Little Blue Biver, of thousands of acres of burnt 
prairie, of emigrant trains and waggons bound for 
Idaho, of boundless plain and innumerable creeks, till 
we arrived at Kickapoo, and the scenery changing in 
its character, we hailed with delight the sight of real 
trees and well-wooded land. From Kickapoo to 
Kinnekuk, thence to Lancaster, and on to Atchison. 
The Missouri Biver was before us, and our long stage 
ride — in the course of which we had seven capsizes 
and two very narrow escapes from serious injury — was 
brought to a welcome termination. 

We rested twenty-four hours at Atchison, thence 
went to Lawrence and Leavenworth, in both of which 
places Artemus lectured ; and then taking a boat up 
the Missouri, found ourselves comfortably seated in a 
railway carriage at St. Joseph — or " St. Jo," as it is 
more frequently called — en route for the Mississippi. 

Before the train started a boy came into the car. 
On his arm was a basket, in which were a number of 
books. 



"ENOCH ARDEN" ON TEE MISSOURI. 507 

" Tennyson's ' Enoch Arden* only a quarter V he 
bawled out some half-dozen times in passing through 
the long carriage, or "car/"' 

We felt that we had returned to civilization. Only 
three or four months had passed since " Enoch Arden" 
had been published in London, and here it was being 
sold for a shilling, and purchased by many travellers. 
Yet from the windows of the car we could look upon 
the waters of the Missouri, and not far across the 
river were Indian " reservations/' with Indians farm- 
ing the land. 

Artemus was desirous of making as many dollars 
as possible before proceeding to New York. Accord- 
ingly, after duly paragraphing his arrival and some 
of our adventures in the papers of St. Louis, and 
giving The Babes in the Wood to a six-hundred-dollar 
audience in the magnificent lecture-room of the St. 
Louis Mercantile Library, we prepared for a rapid 
lecture-tour through Illinois and Ohio. I started 
ahead and made arrangements at Alton, Springfield, 
Bloomington, Peoria, and Chicago, while Artemus fol- 
lowing, drew large audiences to listen to him in every 
town. People expected that he would recount some 
of his Mormon adventures. But Artemus reserved 
all he had to say on that subject until he had 
made his appearance in New York. There was no 
reason why the good people should not pay to see him 
after his journey and hear his old jokes once more. 
What he had new to tell them would keep very well 
till they were ready to pay again. 

Arrived at New York many difficulties awaited us. 
The American metropolis was not well supplied with 
halls and exhibition-rooms. We had decided that a 
panorama was to be painted, and we wished to obtain 



5©8 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

a good room on Broadway, in which Artemus might 
give the entertainment every evening for so long as it 
might prove successful. After much search we came 
to the decision that Dodworth Hall, 806, Broadway, 
was the only place to be had. 

" Before we proceed any further in the matter, go 
down and see Mr. Barnum/' said Artemus. " Tell 
him what we purpose to do, and where we think of 
opening. Ask his opinion, and whether he thinks it 
will make a good show and I a good showman." 

Artemus always had great respect for Barnum. He 
believed fully in his judgment, and regarded the great 
American showman as an example worthy of imitation 
by any one aspiring to please the public with an 
exhibition. I found Mr. Barnum at his Museum, in 
his little office at the top of the stairs, where he was 
sitting writing, with the door of the office partially 
open. No one better than Mr. Barnum himself knew 
the convenience of that office. Being at the head of the 
stairs he could see his visitors as they entered, and — 
more important still — by having his door partly open 
they could see him. He knew that half his patrons 
regarded him as the greatest curiosity of the show. 
And as the admission fee was supposed to admit to a 
sight of all the curiosities except the " Moral Lecture 
Room," it was but fair that the great attraction should 
be always on view. Mr. Barnum listened courteously 
to all I had to say, and gave me his opinion, emphati- 
cally expressed, that the idea of the show was good, 
the proposed manner of carrying it out perfectly 
correct, and the hall, though not a good place, one 
which might be made to answer. 

To secure the hall was not an easy matter. Used 
frequently during the winter for dancing-parties, con- 



PREPARING TEE SHOW. 509 

certs, and other purposes, the proprietor was indisposed 
to let it to any one who wished for continuous pos- 
session. When we had obtained it we commenced the 
preparation of the panorama. Mr. Wheatley, then 
the lessee of Niblo's Garden, granted the services of 
Mr. Hilliard, his principal scene-painter, and we ob- 
tained the further aid of Mr. G. Maeder and Mr. 
Thorne. A painting-room was hired in premises 
adjacent to Wallack's Theatre ; and Artemus having 
made his arrangements in New York, left for his 
mother's home, at Waterford, in Maine, there to write 
a book and put together the materials for his lecture, 
leaving me to superintend the preparation of the 
panorama and attend to the preliminary advertising. 

Lecture and panorama were ready by the autumn. 
The book was subsequently published by Mr. Carleton, 
of New York ; the lecture was revised by literary 
friends of the lecturer, and the panorama was com- 
pleted and placed in the hall. 

A moving picture requires certain points to be well 
attended to for it to be exhibited with effect. Unfor- 
tunately Dod worth Hall was not of the right shape 
nor the proper dimensions. It was too broad one 
way, and not conveniently arranged the other. There 
was just one mode of adapting it for our purpose, and 
that was to place the seats diagonally and show the 
panorama in one corner. The effect was odd, but so 
also was the entertainment, and anything eccentric 
took the fancy of Artemus immediately. It was 
arranged that an old friend of his boyhood, Mr. Max- 
field, should be money-taker, and that a companion of 
his literary career in Cleveland, Mr. Rider, should be 
bis attendant. The general supervision and the out- 
door business devolved upon myself. 



510 TEE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Desirous that the advertisements should be quaint, 
Artemus superintended their construction. One of 
the earliest read thus : — 

ARTEMUS WARD, 

Wliich Ms Number is 806. 
AKTEMUS WAED AMONG THE MORMONS, 

DOD WORTH HALL, 806, BROADWAY, 

Just beyond Stewart's Up-tpwn Stores, 

Opposite Eleventh Street, 

Next to Grace Church, 

And over the Spa. 

HIS ENTERTAINMENT, 

HIS PICTURES, 

HIS JOURNEY, Airo 

HIS JOKES. 

After the entertainment had been given some weeks 
the manner of announcing it was changed, and the 
following became the form of advertisement : — 



A 



RTEMUS WARD AMONG THE MORMONS. 



YOUE ATTENTION IS CALLED 

TO 

A MILE OF PICTURES. 
FIVE SQUAEE YABDS OF JOKES. 
SIXTEEN CUBIC FEET OF FINE MORAL SEN- 
TIMENT. 
FOUR EODS OF SAD AND BEAUTIFUL PATHOS. 
A DOOE-YABD FULL OF BUENING ELOQUENCE. 
^ A SMALL BLACK TEAYELLING BAG containing 

Phosphorescent Quips. 

^ PETEOLEUM OIL PAINTINGS by the HIGH OLD 

MASTEES, &c. &c. <fcc. 



ADVERTISING THE SHOW. 511 

ALL MOVING TO BEAUTIFUL MUSIC, 
AT 

ARTEMUS WARD'S 
PICTORIAL ENTERTAINMENT 

OF 

LIFE AMONGST THE MORMONS. 
At DODWORTH HALL, 806, BROADWAY. 
57TH TO 62ND NIGHTS OF REPRESENTATION. 
STUPENDOUS SCENERY, 

STEAM-MOVED MECHANISM, 

and GORGEOUS GAS EFFECTS. 

Every Evening at 8. 

" We are Here." We think so. 

Ever of those! 

A certain number of complimentary admissions 
had to be distributed. To make them characteristic 
and in harmony with the entertainment, Artemus 
suggested that they should be cards with the address 
and the simple words, " Artemus Ward among the 
Mormons. Admit the Bearer and One Wife." 

An old friend of the lecturer, Mr. Booth, the 
printer, of Douane Street, undertook the preparation 
of the bills and posters. Artemus wrote a quaint 
programme, now reprinted in the little book contain- 
ing his lecture as delivered at the Egyptian Hall ; and 
we concocted a large poster for the walls, the pecu- 
liarity of which was that all the letters appeared to 
be intoxicated and reeling over. Then came the 
question of what we should do to astonish Broadway. 
I reminded Artemus of the idea which had struck 
him at Austin, to have a procession of Indians. 

" Can you hire a dozen Irishmen in the Bowery V 
said he. 

" Yes, without any difficulty. We can borrow 



512 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Indian dresses for them from Mr. Lingard, at the 
New Bowery Theatre, where they have been playing 
Metamora." 

" But you must borrow tomahawks too, and see to 
having your Indians paint their faces every morning." 

I assured Artemus that our Irish-Indians should be 
provided with muskets and bows and arrows, as well 
as tomahawks ; and I undertook to get a dozen very 
large white umbrellas made, with the words 
"Artemus Ward — His Indians — Dod worth Hall/' 
painted thereon. 

"Couldn't you mount your Indians on donkeys?" 

This was asking me too much. Donkeys were 
scarce in the United States, and I knew of no place 
where I could obtain twelve at any price. We con- 
cluded to be satisfied with walking-Indians, procured 
our men, drilled them, taught them how to put on 
the war-paint, how to give an Indian whoop, how to 
do an Indian dance, how to carry their umbrellas, 
and how to deliver our bills. Then, one bright sunny 
morning, when all New York was out for exercise, 
having seen that our Indians were duly equipped and 
fully rigged, we launched them on Broadway. The 
effect was all that we desired. The Irishmen enacted 
their parts admirably ; the people stopped to stare ; 
and Artemus, with his hat down over his face, fol- 
lowed on the opposite side of the street, enjoying the 
sensation as much as any gamin among the crowd. 

The entertainment was first given in New York on 
the 17th of October, 1864. On the opening night 
most of the literati of the city were present. Artemus 
had expended some thousands of dollars in the enter- 
prise, and was sanguine of success. His expectations 
were only partially realized, for the hall was most in- 



Plate X. 




THE SHOW CLOSES IN AMERICA. 513 

convenient and far too small. But it was a success 
that had its results and its reward in the future. 
New York yielded the fame ; cities and towns else- 
where were to contribute the profit. After a run of a 
little more than three months the panorama was rolled 
up, and the show taken for a trip through the towns 
of New England. Artemus discovered that the pic- 
ture was too large and ponderous to be transported 
easily and fitted up rapidly. He also came to the 
belief that it was too well painted for his purpose, 
and that some inartistic and roughly-executed carica- 
ture of a panorama much smaller in dimensions would 
be better suited. A new picture was painted by some 
panorama manufacturers in Boston. It was this small 
painting which Artemus subsequently brought to 
London. When the lesser picture was ready, the 
larger one was left behind at Providence, in Rhode 
Island. What became of it ultimately I do not know. 
Circumstances called me to Europe. Artemus 
entered into a contract with Mr. Wilder, of New 
York — the same gentleman whom he had met in Cali- 
fornia — and with him undertook a tour of the Northern 
States of the Union. When that contract was ful- 
filled, he travelled southward on his own account, and 
seriously injured, an already enfeebled constitution by 
subjecting himself to the hardships and annoyances of 
visiting a country so recently devastated by war, and 
by daring at an unseasonable time the hazardous 
climate of New Orleans. In the latter city he gave a 
benefit for the relief of some distressed people of the 
South, who had become reduced to poverty by joining 
the ranks of secession. On his return to Boston this 
benefit formed a subject of newspaper comment. The 
press criticised it to his detriment. It evidenced too 

L L 



5 r 4 THE GENIAL SEOWMAN. 

much kindliness for the people of the South to be plea- 
sant to some of the good folks of Massachusetts. But 
Artemus had a kindly heart, and was always disposed 
to assist the deserving whatever their clime or creed. 
Broken in health, and annoyed with the snarls of the 
unfriendly, he sought his home in Maine, and resting 
there, came to a determination to attend to the advice 
of myself and others, and pay a visit to England. 
He sent me a letter, concluding with the folJ owing 
paragraph : — 

" I shall float myself across the big ditch soon. Get 
ready for me. See the Prince of Wales, and ask him 
to let me have a room for my show in St. James's 
Palace. Any room will do. I can run round and 
board with the Royal Family. Their dinner-hour will 
suit me. I am not particular .". 



ARTEMUS IN LONDON. 515 



CHAFTER XXXIX. 

IN LONDON THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN. 

IN the early part of the summer of 1866 I received 
a telegram from Liverpool informing me that 
Artemus Ward had landed in England. Following it 
came a letter from him asking me to meet him at 
Euston Square Terminus. He had made the trip 
across the Atlantic in the company of his friend, Mr. 
E. H. House, of the New York press. 

On my way to Euston Square, I took occasion to 
describe to Mr. Pond, who accompanied me, the 
genial, mirthful, hilarious character of the American 
humorist. When Artemus and I shook hands on 
the platform, I was grieved to see that I had been 
describing some one whom I had known a year pre- 
viously, and that the description did not tally with the 
worn, wasted, and more grave than merry man who 
stepped out of the railway carnage. 

After taking a few hours' rest, Artemus expressed a 
wish to see some of the London streets. Making up 
a party of four, we started for a drive, having formed 
a plot to take our guest to the East End, and exhibit 
that part of the metropolis to him as representing 
London, so that in the morning he might afterwards 
be taken westward and be puzzled to feel assured that 
he was in the same city. He chanced to mention 
St. Paul's. We drove up Ludgate Hill and showed 



516 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

him St. Paul's from there ; then we took him round 
the Cathedral, passed into Cheapside, turned back into 
Cannon Street, and brought him in full view of St. 
Paul's again. Then we exhibited the Cathedral from 
Knightrider Street, and then again from Ludgate 
Hill, until in the dusk of evening Artemus became 
confused, and wished to know if St. PauFs pervaded 
all London. 

There was no good exhibition-room in London 
vacant at the time of his arrival, nor was the health of 
Artemus adequate to his immediate appearance as a 
public entertainer. Besides, he very naturally wished 
to spend a few months in becoming acquainted with 
English society and in familiarizing himself with 
English customs. Acting on the advice of friends, he 
removed from London to Broadstairs, trusting to re- 
ceive benefit from the invigorating air of the east coast 
of Kent. The seaside soon proved monotonous to 
him ; he returned to London, became introduced to a 
literary club, of which he was afterwards elected 
member, made the acquaintance of many of the cele- 
brities of the metropolis, frequented the theatres, grew 
friendly with many of the principal members of the 
dramatic profession, and amused himself by studying 
life and manners in the city he had for so many years 
desired to visit. 

His reputation as a humorist had long preceded 
his arrival. One of his books had been published in 
London and extensively quoted from. An early copy 
of Artemus Ward among the Mormons had been for- 
warded by himself to Mr. John Camden Hotten, of 
Piccadilly, and published by Mr. Hotten at the re- 
quest of Artemus. The publication of it by unau- 
thorized parties subsequently formed matter for a 



AT TEE EGYPTIAN EALL. 517 

Chancery suit, and the popularity of the author became 
greater through the reports of the law proceedings. 
At length Artemus received a compliment considered 
by him at the time to be the crowning triumph of his 
life, — he was invited to a dinner party at the house of 
Mr. Willart Beale, was there introduced to Mr. Mark 
Lemon, and asked to become a contributor to Punch. 
As a showman he was keenly appreciative of the value 
of advertising, and knew how much it was worth to 
him to have the name of " Artemus Ward " attached 
to his articles in the great comic journal, which 
usually ignores all signatures to contributions. Still 
more elated was he when the publishers of Punch 
posted up his name in large letters over their shop in 
Fleet Street. He delighted in pointing it out to friends, 
and in exulting that he had obtained the best posting- 
station in London. 

Preferring the Egyptian Hall to any other place, 
Artemus succeeded in renting of Mr. Arthur Sketchley 
the room in which that gentleman had entertained the 
public successfully for a long period. Feeling doubtful 
about his physical powers of endurance, and by no 
means certain how far his entertainment would be 
acceptable to an English audience, Artemus refrained 
from making many alterations in the exhibition-room. 
To quote his own joke on the humorous programme 
he distributed : — " During the vacation the Hall has 
been carefully swept out, and a new door-knob has 
been added to the door \" 

There were many rehearsals of the lecture. On a 
large sheet of paper the lecturer wrote out his cues, 
placed them on a music-stand before him, and used 
them for his guidance for a week or two after the 
opening night. 



518 THE GENIAL SHOWMAN. 

Tuesday, November 13, 1866 , was the evening of 
Artemus Ward's first lecture in London. The audience 
was large, but principally constituted of the literary 
friends of the lecturer and the representatives of the 
London pr^ss. The cash receipts amounted to only 
eighteen pounds. 

Few entertainments have proved more immediately 
successful, or have been more unhesitatingly accepted 
by the public. For six successive weeks the little 
lecture-room was densely crowded, and people vainly 
struggled for admission at the doors. On the evening 
of Friday, in the seventh week, Artemus became seri- 
ously unwell, and the money taken at the entrance 
had to be returned, an apology made, and the audience 
dismissed. On two subsequent occasions the enter- 
tainer was unable to entertain, and the public were 
similarly disappointed. In fact, on many evenings, 
while the audience were laughing at the jokes of the 
lecturer, the doctor was in attendance behind the 
panorama with stimulants and restoratives ready at 
hand. Poor Artemus was very unwilling to give up, 
but on the 23rd of January, 1867, he lectured for the 
last time; his strength completely failed, and the 
door of the exhibition-room was closed, never again to 
be opened by him. 

The lecture as given by Artemus Ward, at the 
Egyptian Hall, has been printed, with an attempt on 
the part of the publisher and the editors to convey 
some idea of the manner in which it was delivered. 
No description, however, can adequately shadow forth 
its indescribable charm. The matter without the man 
is a musical instrument with no musician to awake the 
strings. I have heard many attempts to imitate the 
style and manner of Artemus Ward, but none have 



TEE CURTAIN FALLS. rjip 

succeeded in a faithful reproduction. Perhaps the 
imitations of Mr. George Grossmith are about as near 
as any that have been given in public ; but they are 
simply reminiscences of the lecture, and convey no idea 
of the personality of the lecturer. 

Acting on the advice of physicians, Artemus left 
London and went to the island of Jersey. He re- 
mained there a short time, failed to regain any 
strength, and returning to England, died at South- 
ampton. The particulars of his last illness, and of his 
death, have tjeen too recently published to render it 
requisite that I should recapitulate the melancholy 
details. 

In these pages I have told the story of our adven- 
tures in connexion with what Artemus took pleasure 
in calling his " Show/'' With recollections of many 
happy hours spent together, rendered the happier in 
the retrospect by contrast with some sorrowful 
moments, I close my record of The Genial Showman. 



THE END. 



LO^DOJf. 

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